


The Last of Us

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Injustice: Gods Among Us, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Bruce is sneaky, Clark will angst, Evil!Superman, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Injustice: Gods Among Us - Freeform, Kal is an asshole, Kryptonian Biology, M/M, Overlord Clark, Sassmaster Jor-El, Soulmates, but he also has feelings, but totally not necessary to read this, regime!Superman - Freeform, which don't matter because he's still an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:38:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: Just an alternate universe away, there was a Batman who never resisted--who never fought, or died on his knees in the desert, hatred across his face. His complement, his friend, his foil, in every way, was alive. Somewhere."This regime won't survive without forethought, Kal," Diana said, her hand drifting to her waist. She thumbed her lasso subconsciously. "You need a second."A second-"I thought that was what you were?" Superman asked, turning a cold look on her. The Amazon didn't cower under his gaze, and that somehow made it all the more infuriating."Don't play games with me." Diana rebuked him, curling her fingers around her lasso. If she used it on him, he would throw her through the wall. The premise didn't even need consideration. "You need a better mind-""-and I killed him." Superman finished for her, cutting the Queen off with a sharp gesture. His hand split the hologram, scattering the pieces across the room. "Enough!" he roared, "Can anyone in this godforsaken planet let me forget that?"My superbat take on Injustice: Gods Among Us, which is so deliciously angsty and worthy of more fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actually sat my tuchus down and watched all the cut scenes from the video game as well, so this has definitely been on my mind. Something about Evil!Superman just got to me...

" _I can say without a doubt that there are an infinite number of universes. Some are just like our own...but for one or two significant events, exactly the same."_

_-_ Lex Luthor, _Injustice: Gods Among Us_

* * *

"Sir," the servant said, bowing low. "Queen Diana is here to see you."

Superman looked up from the hologram spread across the Fortress table. He blinked once, not registering the tremors in the man's carefully clasped hands. "And?"

"She is here to see you," the servant repeated quickly, head dipping forward in deference. "Sir."

He put the man out of his misery, a smirk curling around his lips as he waved once at the door. "Send her in."

"Of course." The servant bowed again, and disappeared into the hallway. A moment later, Diana strode in, her dress fluttering behind her like a cape. Her lasso was wound at her waist, belting the burgundy gown she wore.

"Kal."

Her face was beautiful as always, blue eyes filled with warmth at the sight of her friend. Superman inclined his head. "Diana."

"How are the preparations proceeding?" She asked casually, walking over to the hologram. Tiny armies of light advanced on each other across the table, flickering in and out of sight. "Arthur told me you were having troubles in the East."

_Of course he did_. Superman snorted, joining her at the table. "Arthur wishes to redirect attention from his own failures in Atlantis. Nothing more."

_War had been a constant in the past year. Kal reveled in it-how a sweep of the hand could wipe out armies, thousands of men, in one fell swoop. Diana at his side, blood running down her chin, her eyes burning-_

"Be that as it may," Diana said, a smile flickering across her lips. Her tone slowly drew him back into the present, curdling his visions of bloodshed. "Are the negotiations with Washington moving forward?"

She caressed one of the infantry designators, her hand slipping through the light.

"We should have nuked D.C. when we had the chance," he replied, bitterness coloring his tone. He watched with a fair amount of irritation as she played with his designators on the hologram, frowning. "If I have to speak with another pale-faced, yellow-bellied government official, I'll raze Washington."

"Those are the words of a warrior," Diana cautioned, touching his arm. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, somehow just a few shades too light for his tastes. "Not a negotiator."

"Maybe I don't wish to negotiate," Superman replied coldly, moving back so her hand fell from his arm. He turned back to his map. "Fighting is so much... _cleaner_."

_Hal Jordan had agreed, at the very least. Only Batman had forsaken their mission-_

"This regime won't survive without forethought, Kal," Diana said, her hand drifting to her waist. She thumbed her lasso subconsciously. "You need a second."

_A second-_

"I thought that was what you were?" Superman asked, turning a cold look on her. The Amazon didn't cower under his gaze, and that somehow made it all the more infuriating.

"Don't play games with me." Diana rebuked him, curling her fingers around her lasso. If she used it on him, he would throw her through the wall. The premise didn't even need consideration. "You need a better mind-"

"-and I killed him." Superman finished for her, cutting the Queen off with a sharp gesture. His hand split the hologram, scattering the pieces across the room. "Enough!" he roared, "Can anyone in this godforsaken planet let me forget that?"

_No,_ Diana's eyes said, but she pursed her lips. Superman felt red hint at his eyes and closed them, turning away and biting down on his rage. _Bruce_ -

She let him stew for a precious minute, watching him carefully. He kept his eyes trained on the wall until he knew his very glance wouldn't incinerate her where she stood. Would he have done that? _Maybe..._

"There is another... _option_."

Superman threw his hands up. " _What_ , Diana? What could I possibly be satisfied with? What could you offer me that would be anything _close_ to what _he_ -" he choked on the words, throat stinging-

_Bruce, kneeling in the sand, a defiant look on his face. The cowl had been ripped off, his hair tousled in the wind. Blood smeared his cheekbones. When he knelt, blue eyes burned into him, full of so much savage_ hatred _it took even him aback._

" _Do it."_

" _No!"_

_A soft whisper. Clark-Superman-hit him across the face again, again and again, until Bruce's face was a mess of blood and bone and all he could do was scream as his eyes burned red-_

" _You killed them," he said, the tears on his face surprising him. He felt his hand still, dripping blood into the sand in small drops, scattered across the grains-_

_A grunt, a moan, something that might have been a laugh came from Bruce's broken mouth._

" _No, Clark," his friend said, his breathing slowing to a broken inhale. He slumped forward, a crude mockery of a bow. "I didn't."_

"J'onn has news of a parallel universe," Diana said, snapping him out of the memory. He looked away, still feeling the disgusting squelch of blood in between his fingers. "There is one that is almost a perfect replica. You want your general?" She looked him dead in the eye, refusing to let his attention wander. "You will go and fight for him. You will do this."

A pause, and it revealed more than he could say.

"How?"

"J'onn has a way," Diana said. She moved towards the door, casting a disdainful look at his scattered maps. "Speak with him. Maybe you can fix your mess and stop crying over...broken toys."

_A broken body, blood running into the sand. Cl-Superman-with blood on his mouth, blood on his hands. What had he done? What had he-_

Kal hissed as her lasso caught on the hologram's edge, dispersing the final pieces that had clung to the hologram. Diana left without a backwards glance, proving her point with every click of her heels. He felt the childish urge to wreck the room and just barely repressed it. He couldn't.

_Bruce,_ a quiet, desperate voice said, deep down. _Bruce, I can't do this without you._

He ruled Earth. No one else, not even Diana or Arthur, could claim that. And yet-

"Sir?"

Superman looked up, seeing the same trembling servant from before. "Send for J'onn. _Now_."

"Yes, sir."

_"And stop looking at me like that!"_

At his shout, the man sprinted from the room, leaving a sour taste in Kal's mouth.

* * *

_**Elsewhere** _

The Watchtower circled Earth for the sixth time in as many hours, half an hour into its next orbit. Africa's expanses drew in every available eye, sliding into Asia as the system continued its trek through space.

Batman ripped his attention away from the window, returning to the monitor in front of him. Unsurprisingly, the view on the small computer was flat and could barely compare. J'onn chuckled next to him, as if sensing this train of thought.

"You should take a break," the Martian said softly, turning sympathetic eyes in his direction. Batman ignored them, tapping at Flash's registry instead. "You've been here for almost two days now."

He glanced at his watch, only moderately intrigued by this news. On his left screen, Robin was leaping through a training course in the Cave, dodging Alfred's somewhat disdainful jabs with a sword. "Five more hours."

J'onn snorted, or something close to it. "As you say, my friend."

They fell into a companionable silence, listening to the Watchtower wake up above and around them. Bruce had almost lost himself in his feeds when J'onn inhaled next to him, sudden and sharp.

"I detect... _abnormalities..._ in the outer shielding region."

He looked up from his monitor, eyes narrowed.

"Show me."

"Here," J'onn turned his monitor and pointed at an error message, displaying a grainy image. The computer beeped angrily. "And there. Just a moment ago."

He leaned in, peering at the readout. _Strange._ A second later he tapped his comm. "Batman to Superman."

There could be no other explanation-and yet-

"Superman to Batman," Clark's voice echoed down the line. "What's up?"

"Verify your location, please."

"Uhh...the Watchtower cafeteria?"

Bruce frowned. "Where were you two minutes ago?"

"The cafeteria. Hey, is everything alr-" Bruce turned off his comm, silencing Clark's confused ramble. J'onn looked at him, lips pinched in concentration.

"He is telling the truth. But-"

"Batman alpha designator three three zero seven," Bruce said to the computer, standing. "Initiate lockdown procedure. Designator four zero four five." He tapped his comm again, broadcasting to the entire league. "Batman to JL. We may have an intruder. Assume lockdown positions immediately."

"How strange," J'onn murmured, looking at the monitors, a dazed expression on his features. "I can almost sense his mind…"

"Whose mind?"

"His," J'onn nodded at the blur on the screen, the only frame of reference they had out in space. Primitive cameras by alien standards-and only half a billion a piece. "He is not of this world. But he is familiar. There is something…"

A shudder rocked the Watchtower, almost sending him off his feet. Bruce gripped the console and rode the aftershocks, watching J'onn materialize in and out as objects flew at him. Alarms started blaring. Red warning lights flashed as screams echoed down the hall.

Proximity alarms went off as the Watchtower began to edge out of orbit. The Martian quickly took over the computer, reassigning coordinates.

"The others," J'onn said, a hint of fear in his voice. He didn't look up from his work. "Go. I'll follow as soon as I get the-"

Batman was already moving. He leapt through the doorway and into the metal-lined hallway, ducking around shards of glass and metal. The sound of his boots against the floor were loud in the interim, the sirens blurring into a single note above him.

The cafeteria had been designated as a potential lockdown location, and he was grimly proud to see the League had followed his instructions. He could see them pressed against the walls, silent. Watching, carefully, for whatever had crashed into their Watchtower with enough force to nearly send it out of orbit.

_Only one person could do that-_

Clark appeared in front of him, his face grave. A small sigh of relief was all he allowed himself. "Bruce?"

"Quiet. Stay down."

They crept towards the damaged end of the Watchtower, Bruce in front, Clark at his heels.

A laugh echoed down the hall, surprising both of them. The chuckles bounced off of the metal walls, reverberating down the corridor. Bruce saw Clark's face lose all its color and wondered what his own expression must have looked like.

"Batman? Is that you?"

In some grotesque joke, Superman entered the hall. Bruce froze, his breath caught in his throat. Clark's hand was on his shoulder, hard enough to make the bones creak.

This Superman stood just a little taller, his cape attached to an alien-looking collar that wrapped elegantly around his throat. The suit was the same, bleeding into a darker armor at his shoulders. His eyes smoldered, red hinting at his irises. His cape flowed behind him, silent against the linoleum floor. The double's gaze found them instantly. It smiled when it saw them, tilting its head.

"Batman."

"Who are you?" Clark stepped in front of him, outrage clear across his face. "What do you want here?"

The double barely spared him a glance. "Was I talking to you?"

With a savage backhand, the other Superman threw Clark into the far wall. 

"That's better." It shrugged and sent a smile to Bruce as Clark groaned, collapsing to his knees. "Less...distracting, staring at my own face…"

Bruce stood and squared off with his opponent, three batarangs between his fingers. He kept a careful eye on the double, feeling his pulse quicken as the Kryptonian smirked in decidedly _Un-Clark_ like fashion. He repeated his friend's question. "What do you want?"

"So strong," the other Superman whispered. He seemed rapt as he looked him up and down, reaching a hand out. "Defiant to the end. I hope you aren't as bitter yet, though."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Superman smirked again, tilting his head. That _Godawful_ smirk, one he'd never seen on Clark in his life. "Well-"

Diana's sword swung down suddenly, aiming for his neck. Without looking, the doppelganger ducked out of the way, swinging the Amazon into Clark. They both crumpled to the ground, hard enough to shatter the linoleum. Bruce edged his hand towards a certain compartment on his belt, feeling his heart beat a little faster. This wasn't Superman. This wasn't even close.

"I wouldn't," the other Superman said, sending him a heartbreaking smile. "Don't piss me off, Bruce. You won't like what I'll do."

He looked behind him at the mention of his identity, knowing it was too late. The rest of the Justice League would have heard his name by now, and, sure enough, their eyes were wide. "You're not Clark," he said, opening the compartment and sliding the ring onto his hand.

"Aren't I?" Not-Superman asked, edging towards him. Diana and Clark launched at him again, and he hit them back with twin blows that shook the Watchtower. With a gesture, two figures flew in through the gaping hole in the hallway.

Bruce's blood chilled as he saw Hal Jordan's face behind a yellow lantern's mask, Diana's graceful features framed by a blocky battle helm. Their doubles looked on in shock as the two attacked, slamming into Diana and Clark with savage cries.

"Neat, isn't it?" Superman asked, gesturing at the fight. Clark battled Diana as the other Amazonian took on the Yellow Lantern. "I thought I'd bring them with. Keep your friends busy."

For a second, he looked just like Clark had days before-earnest, a small smile at his lips. Innocent. Kind. Then he smirked again, and something bitter bled into his expression. "Bruce?"

Bruce felt himself hesitate as he raised the ring. This was bad. This was unpredictable-combined, they were his least favorite. Superman advanced and it took all he had to stand his ground, watching his friend's face morph into a cold mask.

"Don't look at me like that, Bruce. Am I scaring you?"

Bruce hit him across the cheekbone as his hand reached out for him. Superman staggered back, holding his face. Blood welled up, disappearing just as quickly as the kryptonian stepped away from the ring. "What do you want?"

"Is your heartbeat getting _any_ faster?" Superman asked, sounding curious. "I'm impressed. If I could see around that pesky little cowl, I'd guess it's been at a flat 60 bpm…"

He reached out again, and Bruce swung at him. He cried out as a vice-like grip clamped down on his wrist, snapping the bone there like it was a toothpick. He held onto the ring, but it didn't seem to matter. Superman raised him up by his neck, eyes wide.

"Getting a little flustered, Bruce," Superman grinned, inches from his face. Clark's face was a pale blur behind him as the other-Diana flung him into the wall again. "Don't worry. I'll take that cowl off for you."

Bruce kicked at him, his wrist twitching limply at his side. Superman ignored the hits, grabbing his cowl and ripping it off. He heard gasps off to the side and closed his eyes. So his secret was out. He had bigger problems. More specifically, the one currently wrapped around his windpipe. "C-clark-"

"Don't call me that," Superman said viciously, letting him drop. Bruce's world spun as he landed on his bad wrist, biting his lip to keep from crying out. "My name is Kal-El. And you'll do well to remember that."

He bit down on a scream as the Kryptonian stepped on his broken wrist, hearing Clark shout his name somewhere above him. His vision went red, the world blurring out of focus.

His next conscious thought was in Superman's arms, curled tightly against his bastardized shield. He felt a hand around his neck like a vise and didn't dare move. The Kryptonite slipped from his finger, falling to the floor with a soft _click_.

"Don't," Superman was saying above him, eyes narrowed. Bruce looked over his arm and felt his stomach drop. Clark was on his knees between the other doubles, Hal and Diana's hands forcing his shoulders back and his head down. "Or I'll snap his neck."

"Let him go," Clark grit out, blood dripping from his mouth. Superman snorted. "Or you'll have worse to deal with than a few scratches."

In lieu of a response, Superman gestured at the fallen ring. Not-Diana left Superman in Hal's yellow construct, grabbing it from the floor. In a blur, she put it on and slammed her hand into Clark's stomach.

Bruce let his eyes slide shut, hearing Clark's groan as the Kryptonite hit him. He concentrated as hard as he could on Not-Superman's characteristics, anything that could help J'onn. The remaining Justice League members were safe. Clark would be okay, in time. And-

Superman wasn't expecting the second ring, or at least hadn't expected he'd have the strength to use it. Bruce's blow barely caught his jaw, but it was enough to send him backwards a few feet, hissing.

He fell ungracefully to the floor, trying to roll with his wrist instead of on it. Superman picked him up and threw him, swearing. A quick gust of air, and then the Kryptonian  ripped the ring from his finger, eyes blazing.

"No," Superman breathed heavily, face losing color as he held the ring up. Bruce tried to look at Clark, but the double pushed him down into the ground. " _No._ You will not defy me. Not again."

A foot hurtling towards his head was his last clear memory, the sound of his name on Clark's lips fading into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments guys! Here's another chapter! I hope you enjoy.

_**Before** _

_Superman wasn't expecting the second ring, or at least hadn't expected he'd have the strength to use it. Bruce's blow barely caught his jaw, but it was enough to send him backwards a few feet, hissing._

_He fell ungracefully to the floor, trying to roll with his wrist instead of on it. Superman picked him up and threw him, swearing. A quick gust of air, and then the Kryptonian ripped the ring from his finger, eyes blazing._

_"No," Superman breathed heavily, face losing color as he held the ring up. Bruce tried to look at Clark, but the double pushed him down into the ground. "No. You will not defy me. Not again."_

_A foot hurtling towards his head was his last clear memory, the sound of his name on Clark's lips fading into blackness._

* * *

_**Now** _

Clark let out a roar as the other-Superman knocked Bruce out, struggling against the arms around his neck. Another suckerpunch from the kryptonite ring sent him curling around himself, groaning as Bruce's limp form was lifted into the double's arms.

" _Bruce!"_

"Knock him out," Not-Superman said to the doubles, his face a mask. He looked down at Bruce, adjusting him so his arms were around his neck. A step back, and he disappeared in a blur.

Diana's doppelganger grinned down at him, the green light from her ring making him unbearably nauseous. Hal's laughter echoed as she slammed her fist into his temple. He fell to the ground, the world spinning.

When he woke again, it was in the real Diana's arms. The Founders were in a semi circle above them, worried and furious in equal turns.

"We have to get him," Clark said, pushing himself to his feet. He wavered a little, ignoring Diana's outstretched hand. Panic lanced through him. "We have to-he took Bruce-"

"Bruce?" Flash asked, frowning. "You-"

"Batman," Clark cut him off, turning towards the hole in the Watchtower. "We have to find Batman, _now_."

"You're still weak, Kal," Diana said, grabbing his arm. "You should sit-"

" _No_ ," Clark said furiously, "J'onn, they must have come from _somewhere_. Batman had his comm on-We can track them-"

"That is easier said than done," J'onn murmured, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "They appear to be traveling across dimensions. How, I am not quite sure…"

Clark was barely listening as he took in the chaos of the Watchtower around them. Alarms were still blaring, red lights flashing up and down the wrecked hallway. There was debris everywhere, cracks in the foundations he could see even without X-ray vision. He could feel the rockets on the left side of the Watchtower correcting for the altered orbit.

_Bruce built this,_ he thought to himself, in a daze. _I should ask him what to do_.

The Founders were still talking behind him, sending him worried glances in between their discussions. Clark wiped blood from his cheek and turned around, squaring his shoulders. _I can't do this without you-_

"I need everything you have on cross-dimensional travel," he told J'onn, his tone leaving little room for argument. "We're getting him back. I don't care what it takes."

J'onn inclined his head. Flash pumped a fist. "Damn straight!"

"What the hell," Hal Jordan said, still looking a little pale behind his mask. Diana rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. "Your call, Supes."

Clark looked at Victor, who nodded. "I'll have the footage of the fight uploaded soon. I'll review it, look for some clues."

"We will find him," Arthur said, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I'd like a chance to hit that other Superman. There was something _wrong_ with that man."

"No kidding," Hal breathed, still looking unsteady. All eyes turned to Clark as the conversation lulled. "Supes?"

He set his jaw, feeling his features settle into a mask he didn't want to look at too closely.

_There was something_ wrong _with that man-_

Diana peered at him, looking worried. Clark shook his head, looking down at their-his-team. He stood a little taller, letting authority bleed into his voice that he couldn't feel.

"You have your assignments. Let's go."

* * *

Bruce woke slowly, the throbbing in his head making him wince. He forced his eyes open, groaning. The sudden light only aggravated his headache, and he was imposed to reevaluate his concussion status.

He was laying across a platform, his broken wrist across his chest. He bit back a grunt as the broken bones jarred against each other. So Not-Clark hadn't bound it, hadn't even bothered to set it. Not unexpected, but still excruciatingly painful.

The room was a solid white, the walls glowing almost on account of themselves. He watched the strange patterns undulate and realized this must be Clark's ship-the Fortress. A last outpost of Krypton on Earth.

_Unless this isn't your world at all,_ a voice in the back of his head suggested. _Take notes, you might need them later._

He rolled to his feet, gratified to see he was still fairly ambulatory. He took quick inventory of his belt (no weapons, but he'd left the medkit) and looked for a door. His cowl was still missing, but his armor was mostly intact.

No door. No windows. Just pale, shining walls. He grunted and tore off a bandage, forcing himself to look at his broken wrist.

It was the same wrist he'd broken all those years ago. His father had set it himself, he remembered. Removing his gauntlet, he took his hand and pushed with his thumb, groaning as he felt the bones slide against each other.

The world went a little fuzzy at the edges, but that might have been the concussion. With the bone (mostly) set, he wrapped his wrist tightly in the bandage, using an empty flare canister as a splint.

He'd barely had five minutes to do an inventory of the room when one of the walls disappeared. For a moment, seeing Superman's shield almost made him leap up, ready to berate Clark for taking so long. Then his mind caught up with his eyes, and he saw the changed armor, the two guards at either side. The arrogant posture of this new Superman…

"Leave us," Kal-El told the guards, who bowed and backed out of the room. The wall materialized behind the Kryptonian as he strode towards Bruce, sliding back into place like it had never left.

Bruce remained silent as the Kryptonian stood in front of him, refusing to acknowledge the Alpha tactics the other man was attempting. He looked Superman dead in the eye, expressionless.

"Bruce," Kal-El said, a small smile on his lips. His eyes were so blue, so familiar, that it hurt. His tone was awed. "I still...I can't believe it."

_Can't believe what?_ He wanted to ask, but kept his lips pressed together. Let the Kryptonian beat it out of him, he didn't care. _You're not Clark. Not even close._

"You have a concussion," Kal-El said suddenly, sounding surprised. Bruce watched as the other man looked him up and down, silent. "And your wrist is broken. Why didn't you tell me you were in pain, Bruce?"

_Why the nice-guy routine?_ Bruce asked himself, cataloguing Kal-El's genuine-sounding concern. _Clark was never this good of an actor. Reevaluate._

"Are you listening to me?"

Kal-El was an inch from his face, Clark's familiar smile all he could see. Bruce shut his eyes, feeling overloaded.

"-must be the concussion," Kal-El was saying, his voice a pleasant murmur above him. "I'll dim the lights. You should sleep."

Bruce opened his eyes just in time to see the room dim, Kal-El only a few steps away. In the low light, he looked so terrifyingly familiar-the mess of dark curls, brilliant blue eyes that could never have been human-

"Bruce," a hand pressed against his chest, achingly gentle. "Rest. You can turn that mind of yours off for a few hours, can't you?"

A teasing smile, a flash of white teeth in the darkness, and Bruce slept despite himself, Clark's hand on his chest.

* * *

Diana was waiting for him when he left Bruce's room, an expectant hand on her waist. She was wearing blue today. The shade bothered him the instant he saw it, and it was only a second later before he realized why.

_Bruce's eyes_ -

"Well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Her face was still a little swollen from the other Superman's hits, but the bruises would soon fade. "How is he?"

"Resting," Kal-El replied, gesturing for his guards. He began his walk back to his quarters, Diana following on his heels. "He has a concussion, and a broken wrist. He seems...confused."

Diana snorted, the sound echoing down the empty halls. "Playing house, are we? You never were gentle with your lovers, were you, Kal?"

Her voice, her words _irritated_ him for a second, poked at him like they'd never done before. He put a hand to his brow, trying to calm himself. "Is that jealousy I hear, Diana?"

"No." She said plaintively, following him into his bedroom with little hesitation. "I know where your heart lies, and it is not with that _προδότης_."

He turned suddenly, eyes blazing.

"I never want to hear that word come out of your mouth again," he said viciously, "Do you understand me?"

Diana stared, face frozen, and he realized his eyes truly were burning. He bit down on his rage, running a hand across his face.

"Tell me about the other dimension," he said finally, shrugging back into his commander persona. It sat stiffly around his shoulders. "Has J'onn figured out a way to close the doorway between us?"

"No," Diana said, frowning. "But he is working on it. They shouldn't be able to follow us, if that's what you're worried about. Nonetheless, we can take them, Kal, that had already been proved."

_I'm not worried about them following us,_ a voice in his mind whispered traitorously, _I'm worried you'll leave me, that you'll want to go back-_

He realized with a start that he wasn't thinking about Diana.

Her hand touched his cheek, and without thinking, he slapped it away. The Amazon glared at him. In a sudden reversal, she stood from the bed.

"You must be tired," she said proudly, dusting her dress off. A warning laced through her words. "I'll see you later. We have much to discuss."

He didn't look up as she left, thinking of stubborn blue eyes, pushing down the fear that curled through his belly.

On an impulse, he sat up. "Ship, pull up video logs of containment sector A."

"Retrieving feed," the ship replied in a pleasant voice. Suddenly, a hologram screen appeared in front of him. Bruce's form lay across the sleeping platform, his chest rising and falling slowly.

Kal-El laid back, watching the screen.

_Mine,_ he thought as he drifted off, _Mine._

* * *

Kal-El returned approximately 12 Earth hours later, cape sweeping into the small room. Bruce sat up perfunctorily, watching the Kryptonian carefully.

"I brought you breakfast," Kal-El said, almost sheepishly. He had a small tray in his hands. "Kryptonian foods, but I hope you'll find them appetizing."

Bruce didn't let his gaze slip as the tray was placed in front of him, analyzing every consonant, every vocal tremor of the past few words. He made a calculated guess, suddenly, and some of the pieces fell into place.

"You're holding me prisoner."

Kal-El almost started at his words, straightening so quickly it was almost a blur. "I'm holding you for your _protection_."

"Why?" He asked, tilting his head. He watched as confliction passed across Kal-El's features. "You broke my wrist. You kicked me in the head hard enough to give me a concussion. That doesn't sound like protection to me."

"That was necessary," Kal-El said, almost desperate. His eyes were panicked. He took a step closer to Bruce. "I would never hurt you intentionally, you know that."

_Here it was_. Bruce took a deep breath, letting the Kryptonian's words sit out for a second.

"Clark wouldn't have hurt me," He said carefully, watching Kal-El's face. "Never."

The Kryptonian froze, a cold mask falling across his features. Every ounce of goodwill and courtesy he'd been exuding disappeared. "My name is Kal-El."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, slowly, watching as his guess hit home harder than he'd thought possible. He gestured at the forgotten tray. "So why do you keep acting like _him_?"

A backhand he saw coming flung him sideways. He cried out as he landed on his splinted wrist, feeling blood drip down his face. His guess had been correct. _Of course it was right…_

"Don't," Kal-El seethed when he'd pulled himself up. "Don't you dare act like _him_."

"Like who?" Bruce bit back, rising to his feet despite himself. Kal-El actually backed up a fraction. "Like myself? Is that what you mean, _Kal-El_?"

He spit the name out, dragging it so the Kryptonian heard every pretentious syllable of his given name. The other man raised his hand again, and Bruce didn't give him the satisfaction of watching him flinch.

"Go ahead," he said softly, holding Kal-El's gaze. "Hit me. That'll solve everything, won't it?"

A blur, and then the Kryptonian had him by the front of his armor, shoved against the translucent wall. He didn't look human as he lifted Bruce up, eyes a brilliant red, his face a mask.

"You're right," he finally said, the calmness of his tone surprising Bruce. "I'm not _him_."

Bruce tilted his head, heart speeding up as Kal-El leaned in. They were so close now-noses almost touching. He answered just as softly, almost a whisper. "Then what do you want?"

Kal grabbed his neck and forced him down, their lips crashing together. The Kryptonian kissed him like a man drowning, framing his head in hands that could crush him, but instead wove through his hair, drawing him closer and closer.

Bruce groaned as his wrist was jarred, and Kal must have taken that as encouragement, because he kissed him even harder, lifting Bruce up so his legs were around his waist, pressing him against the wall.

He turned his head away, struggling to break the kiss. Kal's lips skidded across his cheek, like fire on his skin. Bruce shut his eyes, his one good hand scrabbling at Kal's shield, trying to push him away.

" _You slut_ ," Kal whispered in his ear, laughter in his voice as they breathed heavily together. "You wanted that, didn't you?"

_No. No, I didn't._

"If you used to be _him_ ," Bruce said after a moment, looking at him defiantly, "Then you know who I really want."

With a roar, Kal threw him across the room. Bruce cried out as he hit the wall, then crashed to the floor. Broken ribs? Cracked, at least. _Christ,_ that hurt.

"You will accept me," Kal said, his boots inches from Bruce's face. "Or you'll die on your knees like the other one."

With that, he was gone, the wall swallowing him up. Bruce breathed heavily around the pain in his chest, feeling something like fear unfurl in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kal discovers how fragile his playthings really are. Clark despairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Thanks for all of the comments! I'm really glad you're all enjoying this angst, because it is ROUGH, man.

_**Before** _

_Bruce groaned as his wrist was jarred, and Kal must have taken that as encouragement, because he kissed him even harder, lifting Bruce up so his legs were around his waist, pressing him against the wall._

_He turned his head away, struggling to break the kiss. Kal's lips skidded across his cheek, like fire on his skin. Bruce shut his eyes, his one good hand scrabbling at Kal's shield, trying to push him away._

_"You slut," Kal whispered in his ear, laughter in his voice as they breathed heavily together. "You wanted that, didn't you?"_

No. No, I didn't.

_"If you used to be him," Bruce said after a moment, looking at him defiantly, "Then you know who I really want."_

_With a roar, Kal threw him across the room. Bruce cried out as he hit the wall, then crashed to the floor. Broken ribs? Cracked, at least. Christ, that hurt._

_"You will accept me," Kal said, his boots inches from Bruce's face. "Or you'll die on your knees like the other one."_

_With that, he was gone, the wall swallowing him up. Bruce breathed heavily around the pain in his chest, feeling something like fear unfurl in his chest._

* * *

_**Now** _

"You haven't slept, Kal."

Someone was pulling on his wrist, but he didn't take his eyes off of the screen. He heard Diana's voice, almost far away, a dream-like quality to it.

" _Kal,_ " she said, sounding hurt. "Won't you listen to me? This isn't _helping_ him if you're hurting yourself-"

A hand crept in front of the monitor, aiming for the power button. With a growl, he shoved it away. A crash echoed through the monitor womb, followed by a low grunt of pain. Finally, he looked up.

Diana was sitting in the rubble of what had been the far wall, blood across her forehead. Her eyes blazed as she stood up, stalking back over to him. Clark felt himself pale.

"Diana, I-"

"No," she said, cutting off whatever apology he'd been struggling to pull together. "We need to talk. You've been in here for _days_ -and now you're lashing out. We all love Bruce-"

_Bruce,_ Clark thought, the name flashing through him like a lance. _Bruce would have solved this in hours, not days. He would have known-_

"-but you are taking this too far. This is _obsession,_ Kal." Diana said, crossing her arms. "Bruce is a valued teammate, and we will do everything to get him back. But you're not helping him like this."

Those words-the summation of his failure, flung back into face-stung. Diana didn't care-Diana didn't _understand_. He _had_ to get Bruce back.

"Leave me," he said, turning back to the monitor. Bruce's bare fare stared back defiantly, and he hated to think that expression had been directed at him-double or not. Had he known the doppelganger? It seemed unlikely-

He startled when Diana's lasso wrapped around him, hauling him to the floor. She braced one foot against his chest and _pulled,_ leaving him at the mercy of the golden rope.

"Why are you doing this?" Diana asked him softly, in sharp juxtaposition to her violent stance. She leaned down, her hair almost brushing his cheek. "Kal. Why is Bruce so important to you?"

His panicked mind went to Lois, then to Metropolis, but the rope forced itself around those distractions. He furrowed his brow and groaned, trying to resist. He couldn't. He can't-

Diana yanked tighter, and all resistance left his body. He slumped, feeling the truth pour through him. He looked up at Diana, a bitter expression on his face.

"Because I love him."

Diana dropped the lasso in shock, the coils unwinding from him easily. A stunned silence filled the room as shame curled through him. He was engaged. Engaged to a woman-Diana should rip his throat out-

"Oh Kal," a soft hand touched his cheek, and he leaned into it, "I'm so sorry."

Clark laughed suddenly, but it sounded more like a sob after a moment. Diana's arms wrapped around him, drawing him close, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't-

"Shhh," Diana said, stroking his hair. "We'll find him. We'll find him, Kal, I swear this. I swear this on every bone in my body."

"You must think I'm a-a terrible person," he said, sitting back and wiping his face. Trying to regain whatever shreds of dignity he had left was easier said than done. "For doing this to Lois, I mean."

Diana's face melted into a softer expression, something close to fond. She patted his shoulder lightly.

"We don't choose the ones we fall in love with," she said softly. "But we can choose the ones we fight for. So _up_!"

Clark stood, gratified to hear more of her earlier self in her tone. Diana saluted him and exited. _Bruce, you wouldn't believe what Diana just did_ -

"Stop," he told himself, sitting down at the computer again. "I have work to do."

_So do it,_ Bruce's voice whispered. _I'm not getting any younger._

"No," Clark let himself smile, just a little. "You're not, are you?"

* * *

Cracked ribs took four to seven weeks for even minimal healing. That was functioning under the assumption that Kal El's little toss hadn't caused them to puncture anything. Bruce didn't think his lungs had been hit, but it still hurt to breathe. It hurt to _move_.

The alien room that had become his prison cell was blank and empty as usual, the sleeping platform the only furniture in the entire room. He'd taken off as much of the upper armor as he could bear, using the cape to wrap his ribs. The pieces were scattered on the white floor, dark smudges against Cla- _Kal_ 's perfect ship.

He was sure he looked ridiculous with just the cape wrapped around his torso, but it was necessary. He couldn't even stand without biting down on a scream-and Kal sure as hell wasn't going to come back anytime soon, whether with more offerings or a few more fists.

" _You will accept me," Kal had said, "Or you'll die on your knees like the other one,_ "

Other one. The other Bruce Wayne? It made sense, but it prompted more questions than answers. Had Kal killed the other Bruce? It didn't explain the kiss-or Kal's fury in the wake of his rejection.

This _Kal_ obviously commanded an army, based on the few guards he'd seen in their comings and goings. Diana and Hal had followed his lead-but what had happened to the rest? Had they stayed with hi-the other Bruce?

Trying to think through this alternate world's problems only distracted him moderately from the pain in his body. At the very least, his head had cleared, but that only seemed to make his perception of everything worse.

About seventeen earth hours later, he heard a commotion outside of his cell. After a moment, the wall disappeared, and he braced himself for whatever Kal had brought along this time.

He's startled to see a familiar face-Barry Allen-and the sight forced a pained chuckle out of him. The Flash, joining Superman's regime? _Barry_?

The speedster walked in cautiously, eyes on him the entire time. Bruce realized that Allen had never seen him with his cowl off-just like _his_ Allen hadn't, back in his own universe. _I wanted to tell you-_

" _Batman?"_ Flash asked, tilting his head. He seemed surprised, eyes roving over the scattered armor. "Batman is Bruce Wayne."

"And Barry Allen is a traitor," Bruce bit back, watching as the younger man winced. "How could you?"

"You sound just like the other Batman…" Flash said, a sorrowful expression on his face. He walked a little closer, inspecting his wounds. "Superman really beat you up, didn't he?"

"That's an understatement," he growled, prompting a smile from the speedster.

"Now that's the Batman I remember," Flash said, a tinge of nostalgia in his voice. "Diana told me that Superman had stolen a Batman from another universe and I had to...come see it for myself, I guess."

"Would you like a turn?" Bruce asked flippantly, unwrapping the cape from his ribs so Flash could see the mottled flesh there. "By my calculations, I have approximately twenty unbroken ribs left."

Barry's eyes were wide, and for a second, Bruce could see his own Flash in them-young, scared, but trying his hardest. "No! Of course not!"

"Why are you here then, Barry?" Bruce asked, replacing the cape with a barely-concealed wince. "If it's not to break bones, then I suggest you leave."

Barry stared at him silently, something akin to doubt in his eyes. Then he straightened, his hand going to his ear. _A comm-_

"This is Flash. Australia? Alright, I'll be there soon." Allen looked at him one last time, then sped out of the room. Bruce watched as the wall sealed behind him, wondering.

* * *

Diana was waiting for him when he got back to his quarters, almost completely naked as she stretched out across his bed. Kal barely spared her a glance as he undressed, checking the feed from Bruce's cell as he did so.

"Kal,"

"Coming," he said distantly, frowning as he saw Barry's face pop up on the screen. What had Flash been doing with Bruce? A surge of jealousy almost overtook him. When a hand landed on his bare shoulder, he grabbed it and flung Diana back onto the bed.

"Rough tonight," she purred, spreading her legs. Her lasso was wound along her upper thigh, golden against her dusky skin. "C'mon, Kal, it's been _weeks_."

He realized he felt _nothing_ when he looked down at her, whereas a week ago, he would've already been between her legs, rocking into her until she cried out. Panic lanced through him, and he struggled to find something stimulating about the situation. It just felt...boring. Wrong.

Diana kissed him as he laid down above her, hands scratching at his back. He kissed her back, almost repulsed by how…ordinary it felt. This was just lips against lips, saliva and saliva. It could have been kissing anyone.

His failure was made apparent when Diana's hand went to his crotch, only to be disappointed. She wrapped a hand around him and pumped, but nothing happened. Kal growled and flung himself from the bed before she could say anything.

He heard her shout behind him as he stalked down the Fortress' halls, but a quick telepathic command and the ship locked her out of his chambers. His feet took him to Bruce's cell without a conscious thought. The guards there startled when they saw him completely naked, guns coming up.

"Out of the way," he hissed, but they were frozen in shock. With a flare of his eyes, they were nothing but ash on the smooth floors. The door opened, revealing Bruce.

He walked in quickly, moving towards the other man without a goal, only the need to touch, to be touched. Bruce saw his approaching hands and squared his jaw-always defiant, and so beautiful when he resisted-

"I want you," he said, grabbing Bruce by the hair, ignoring his groans as Kal forced him to the ground. " _God,_ your eyes-"

Bruce refused to be led, forcing his head back so hard he almost snapped his own neck. Kal shoved him down, gratified to see that his body was definitely interested now. "No."

Kal threw him against the wall, hearing the crackle of broken bone as Bruce fell to the ground. "It doesn't have to be this way-"

"Got anything...more inventive…" blood poured from Bruce's mouth, and the man was visibly wheezing. "...than throwing me...into the...wall?"

He kicked Bruce in the ribs, viciously, but his anger was the only thing that kept the kick from being lethal. His foot missed the main torso, but still grazed the man's upper ribs. Bruce's scream was choked by blood, and he went limp a second later.

"Disobey me again," Kal said victoriously, standing over Bruce's body. "I dare you, you son of a bitch. You-"

The world stopped. His vision narrowed to pinpricks. A gentle thudding in Bruce's chest, then...nothing.

"I…" he said, numb, looking down at Bruce. The man's eyes were closed, his chest unmoving. "I...no. No, I...no no. Bruce-"

He used his X-Ray vision and almost threw up at what he saw there. Catastrophic injury to both lungs-causing immediately bilateral collapse. Damage to his heart, almost all twenty four ribs cracked or broken. Pelvic fracture, damaged kidneys, perforated spleen-

"No-no," he gathered Bruce in his arms, all of his anger forgotten. "Bruce, don't you dare. Don't you-"

With a command, the ship opened a direct stairway to the infirmary. He flew down the stairs, trying so hard not to damage the man any further. He nearly flung Bruce into the healing pod, watching as the glass settled around him.

"Regeneration process beginning," the ship said pleasantly, "No heartbeat detected."

"Repeat initiation." Kal bit out, clenching his fists. Bruce's chest was motionless. The ship hesitated. " _NOW_!"

"Regeneration process beginning. No heartbeat detected."

"AGAIN!"

"Regeneration process beginning,"

A pause, and it could have been the longest in the world. How long had Bruce been without oxygen now? It couldn't have been too long, not yet.

Kal prayed. He got down on his knees and turned his head up to the sky. _Please. I'll do anything. Please._

The ship was silent. Then-

"Heartbeat detected. Initiating lifesaving measures."

Kal crumpled to the ground, his head in his hands. He felt tears pour down his cheeks, hot enough to burn. He pressed his forehead to the cold floor, keening.

_Bruce, oh Bruce, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-_

Kal looked down, seeing bloody handprints smudged against the floor. The blood on his hands was still bright red, retaining some warmth. Bruce's warmth. Bruce's blood, everywhere...

_What have I done?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot, plot, and--what was that? Some ANGST? Who saw that coming???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I am trying so hard to move this along, but my brain told me to spend a little more time tearing my heart in two, so I decided to listen to it. NEXT chapter, I promise, will have some more plot. Thank you for all the comments!

_**Before** _

" _Regeneration process beginning,"_

_A pause, and it could have been the longest in the world. How long had Bruce been without oxygen now? It couldn't have been too long, not yet._

_Kal prayed. He got down on his knees and turned his head up to the sky. Please. I'll do anything. Please._

_The ship was silent. Then-_

" _Heartbeat detected. Initiating lifesaving measures."_

_Kal crumpled to the ground, his head in his hands. He felt tears pour down his cheeks, hot enough to burn. He pressed his forehead to the cold floor, keening._

_Bruce, oh Bruce, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-_

_Kal looked down, seeing bloody handprints smudged against the floor. The blood on his hands was still bright red, retaining some warmth. Bruce's warmth. Bruce's blood, everywhere..._

_What have I done?_

* * *

_**Now** _

Kal ignored the buzzing in his side, watching Bruce's prone form through the glass. He couldn't tell how long it had been--hours, days. The healing pod had slowly built the man back up from his bones, fixing torn ligaments, healing damaged organs. As the light washed over Bruce, he looked years younger, a youthful look to his face. 

_What if he never wakes up? What if you damaged him beyond even Kryptonian help--_

His comm buzzed at his side again, as it had been since he'd placed Bruce in the pod. He hadn't talked to Diana since their failed attempt at sex, and he wasn't keen on trying. If the Regime wanted to contact him, they could come find him. Let them deal with the Fortress and its defenses. He found he didn't want to talk to anyone right now. 

"Kal,"

He didn't turn around, clenching his fists. "Leave me  _alone,_ Diana."

"J'onn has news," the Amazon continued. She looked surprised at his disheveled appearance, but didn't falter. "It seems the Superman of  _his_ dimension," she nodded at Bruce's limp form, "has found a way to use the same portal technology. He suspects they will attempt a rescue mission soon--"

"Something you said would never happen," Kal murmured, turning back to Bruce. Rage simmered beneath his skin. "In fact, you said it was  _impossible._ Tell me again, Diana, why are you here?"

"Leave the traitor," she spit out, stamping a booted heel. "We need you in Detroit. There's been an uprising--"

"I'm not coming," Kal said immediately, watching as Bruce's brow furrowed in his sleep, as if he could hear their conversation. "I need to watch  _the traitor_."

"You--"

Kal turned around, eyes blazing. " _Leave,_ Diana. I won't ask again."

"No," Diana put her hands to her hips, one grasping at the end of her lasso. She squared her shoulders. "Finding you a second Batman was a mistake;  _look_ at you! You're obsessed!"

"I  _love him_!" Kal roared, clenching his fists. Diana took a step back at his outburst. "Can't you see that, you pompous  _bitch_?"

The room fell silent as his slur echoed, Diana's face white with rage. She pursed her lips, her hand a claw around her lasso. She finally looked a little like her older self--fiery and spirited, instead of smug and arrogant. 

"No," she said finally, her voice soft, "I can't see that."

Kal didn't look up as she left, turning back to Bruce's body. He watched as the scars across the man's chest healed, feeling an ache in his sternum. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to distract himself, then pressed his face to the glass. 

 _He doesn't know,_ the part of him that was still Clark murmured,  _He'll never know._

* * *

 Bruce woke slowly, blinking away spots as he forced his eyes open. He hadn't expected to wake up at all, and the shock of that realization floored him. There was something dark wrapped around his body; he reached out with a weak hand, and felt the alien material of his cell walls, somehow more intense.

He startled as the wall disappeared, light flooding in. He groaned and slammed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to hit. After a moment, he slowly began taking inventory of his limbs, and any possible additional breaks from Kal's tantrum, holding himself deathly still.

His wrist moved unconsciously, painlessly. He frowned. _That's not right_ -

The room he was in was a bright white, not dissimilar to his cell. Bruce wiggled his hand gingerly, then pushed himself to a sitting position. Besides a nagging lethargy, he was...whole. Unbroken.

"What the fuck," he said out loud. "What the-"

"Finalizing calibrations," a pleasant voice said above him, a series of beeps following. "No administrator present. Please stay seated."

 _The ship,_ he realized, looking around the platform he was seated on. Was this an infirmary of some type? Had Kal brought him here?

His ribs were perfectly healed, as was his wrist. His skin was smooth, and a cursory look at his chest revealed little to none of his previous scars. He wore a simple pair of Kryptonian-looking pants, a soft material that felt like liquid against his legs.

 _Why would he beat the shit out of me, only to turn around and heal me?_ he asked himself, staring at the blank wall. He suddenly remembered Kal's grin as that final kick had driven into his ribs, knowing that the Kryptonian had damaged something irreplaceable when his heart began to stutter and stop in his chest-

"Ship," he asked cautiously, getting a ripple of the wall's patterns in response. So it was listening to him. "Where is...administrator?"

"Kal-El, designator administrator," the ship replied, "is currently off-planet. Location 00000-alpha-157-"

"Thank you," Bruce said awkwardly, cutting it off. He looked down at his bare chest, utterly confused. "Ship. What is this room, uh, used for?"

"The healing pod is designed for tissue regeneration using Kryptonian crystals," the ship replied after a second, as if hesitating. "It promotes growth of Kryptonian tissues upon injury."

 _A healing pod for Kryptonians,_ he mused, _Back on Krypton, they weren't invulnerable._

"Is that what...happened to me?" Bruce frowned. "Did Kal-El heal me?"

There was another pause.

"Security clearance not sufficient," the ship said, "Access restricted."

That was...interesting. The pause seemed almost like the ship had hesitated. Bruce narrowed his eyes, standing from the platform. His legs were a little shaky, but from what he remembered, a shattered pelvis was far from preferable. "Who has access?"

"Kal-El." the ship replied, "and all genetic relatives."

It was now or never. He took a deep breath, steadying himself against the platform. "Estimate my level of Kryptonian DNA, please."

"Calculating," the voice said. It took barely a second. "Estimation. 15% Kryptonian DNA. Classification: Possibly Homo Sapiens, of Earth."

_Interesting. No, not interesting. Terrifying. What am I going-_

"Erase this conversation from any backups," he said, putting some authority into his tone. "And delete any video files...please."

This time, the ship didn't hesitate. "Access denied. Security clearance not sufficient."

Bruce looked up at the ceiling. "You said I had Kryptonian DNA. Doesn't that automatically give me higher security clearance?"

"Security clearance restricted," the ship said carefully. "Genetic status is...uncertain."

"I'm 15%, isn't that close enough? Delete them."

"Permission denied."

"Open the door then."

"Permission denied."

Bruce grit his teeth. "Why?"

"Genetic status uncertain."

Hmph. That wasn't going to stop him. "But I am a guest, aren't I? Kal-El instructed you to provide for me, didn't he? Are you disobeying his orders?"

A stab in the dark, but the ship hesitated.

"He told you to help me," Bruce said, deepening his voice. "I need you to do this. Please."

A long pause, and then the walls around him went blank.

"Permission is...granted."

Bruce listened as a series of beeps sounded, then nothing. He smiled to himself. This was a way out. This was a _plan_.

* * *

He wasn't wearing his suit, and that was by far the strangest thing about what he had been doing for the past eight hours. Superman, taking off his shield, his emblem-unheard of. Kal-El of Krypton, drifting in the orbit of the sun, dreaming of being Clark Kent-unspeakable. Forbidden. It was impossible.

The heat from the sun had burned the blood off his hands light-years ago. Bruce's blood had fallen away from him in a cloud of ash, leaving his hands unmarked. Clean.

 _They're nowhere close to clean,_ he thought to himself, soaking up the rays, feeling every cell in his body grow and expand. _He almost died...and I didn't realize. I almost lost him again…_

Somewhere, _his_ Bruce was laughing, bitter. _You almost fucked up your second chance,_ he'd say, _There's a reason they're called second chances-you don't usually get a third, Clark-_

Nobody had called him Clark in...who knew how long. Bruce had-briefly, when he'd shifted him inside the pod, mumbling the name in his sleep. He'd frozen at the sound, almost dropping the other man.

_Clark._

_Clark._

Bruce's biting words-

_"If you used to be him," Bruce said, defiant, "Then you know who I really want."_

Clark.

With a growl, he gathered himself and sped back towards Earth.

* * *

"Dick."

Nightwing nearly leapt out of the chair, turning to find Clark at the mouth of the cave. He tried to play it off with a cough, and was moderately successful.

"Clark," he said, taking a step towards the Kryptonian. "You have news?"

Two weeks, almost, and they had been the longest of his life. He would accept any development at this point--but he had a feeling Clark was running out of steam. 

Superman looked exhausted, dark circles like Dick had never seen before under his eyes. His normally-styled hair was a mess of dark curls, falling across his face. He seemed strangely pale. "J'onn figured out the portal. We're leaving tonight."

Dick mentally fistbumped the alien, struggling to stay still. "Yes! That's great. What time?"

Clark blinked once, slowly, like an owl. "You're not going."

"What?" It was like he was a child again, and _Uncle Clark_ was over, the dismissal sending him back decades. "Of course I'm going with!"

"We need you to stay at the Watchtower," the Kryptonian bit out, sounding irritable. He ran a hand across his face. "We're taking almost everyone. I need someone I can trust up there while we're gone, do you understand?"

Dick was silent. He could hear and see Bruce for a second in Clark's mannerisms, and it unnerved him. "Of course I understand." He left out the _sir,_ feeling that was better left to Bruce. "Clark, are you okay?"

The Kryptonian was staring at one of the old bat suits intensely. He seemed entranced for a moment, then blinked. "What? Yeah, I'm fine."

"You look...tired."

"I'm fine," Clark flashed a half-hearted version of his usual smile, nodding at him. "Thanks for this. I'll see you in a little while, okay?"

Dick looked at the clock on Bruce's computer. "What time should I be-oh wait."

Clark had disappeared in the time it'd taken for him to turn his head. Dick narrowed his eyes. _That's...not normal._

_None of this is normal._

"Alfred!" he called up the stairs, putting that thought behind him. "Can I box up some of that chicken?"

* * *

Bruce left the ship alone for the rest of his stay in the infirmary. He did a few sets of pushups and squats, revelling in the feel of a younger body. It was if a few years of scars and wear and tear had been lifted in a few seconds, leaving him even more agile.

The rest of the time he spent meditating, struggling to get over the premise that, like it or not, there was Kryptonian DNA inside of him. Had Kal-El known? Had he shoved him inside the pod as a last resort? Was he just saving a dying plaything he'd beat up again and again, now that he knew he could fix it?

He refused to let himself think about those paths. After an hour of meditation, he began to feel the ship around him, pulsing softly, just out of reach. He laid down on the floor, curious. There was a warmth next to his head-

"What are you doing?"

Bruce startled awake, unnerved to find Kal-El in the doorway. He hadn't heard him at all. He sat up quickly, scooting back a little. "I...nothing. Meditating."

Kal-El's face relaxed, like he'd been worried. He was wearing a loose white shirt and dark pants, the most casual he'd appeared so far. Bruce's heart hurt at the mess of dark hair, almost missing the severity of Kal-El's cape and armor. At least he'd know who exactly was in front of him then. "How are you feeling?"

 _Suspicious._ "Whole," Bruce said, inclining his head towards the pod. "I guess I have you to thank for...that."

Kal's face was pained. He entered the room, and to Bruce's surprise, went to his knees in front of him. "Bruce, I wanted to apologize-"

"Apology not accepted," Bruce said immediately, "You broke nearly every bone in my body. Sorry."

He saw a flash of anger, but the other man clamped down on it quickly. "Let me finish. I want to apologize for everything-the way I've treated you, abused you-"

The sincerity in those blue eyes pulled at him, pulled at the same part of him that had seen through the ship for a split second. Bruce narrowed his eyes. This could just-this could just be what he needed. "Kal-El."

He didn't know if he could do this--if he wanted to do this. It'd been almost two weeks by his count, and there was no sign of the Justice League. No sign of any rescue. He was on his own. He could do this--he had to. 

"Clark," he said experimentally, interrupting the fourth paragraph of Kal's apology. 

"-please, let me finish, I-"

" _Clark_." He repeated. " _Stop_."

"-and I-yes?" Kal broke off his stuttering apology. Then he paled, realizing. "You just called me-I-"

"Calm down," he told the Kryptonian, who looked like he was close to hyperventilating. "You're breaking the floor."

Kal paused, examining the ground beneath his feet. Sure enough, a spiderweb of cracks spread from each knee, the ship fluttering under his touch. He ran his hands through his hair. "I….I don't know what's _happening_."

 _If the ship thinks you're important to him,_ Bruce thought over his plan, _then you can get better clearance. Find your ring, get out of here. But-_

"Clark," he said softly, putting a hand on the Kryptonian's shoulder. The other man startled, eyes going wide. "You're okay. We're...safe. I'm safe. Nothing's going to happen."

Kal's expression was one of grief. "I'd almost lost you."

"You almost did," Bruce agreed softly, bending his head closer. "But I'm better now. I'm okay."

Before he could stop him, Kal had his arms around him, drawing him close. He pushed his face against Bruce's neck, breathing him in. Bruce swore as his heart began to beat faster, his body responding to the other man's touch for the first time. "I can't believe I did that to you. I just...never again, alright? Never."

Bruce let himself be held, making soothing noises. He put his hand in Kal's hair experimentally, getting a soft moan from the Kryptonian as he ran it through the curls. "Never."

After a moment, Kal leaned back, wiping at his eyes. They stared at each other.

"Diana said I needed a general," he said slowly, just the bare hint of hope in his voice. "I think I just needed you."

Bruce shot one last look at the ceiling, then reached out a hand. He touched Kal's jaw, then added a second hand. Kal closed his eyes, tilting his head up as Bruce leaned in.

He kissed Kal's lips and pretended they were Clark's, ran a hand through those curls, and for a second, it wasn't a stretch. It was perfect. It was everything.

He pretended it was Clark's hand that pushed him down lightly, pulled at the tie at his waist, hooked his knees up over his shoulders. Clark's hands framing his face as they made love, the ship above them dimming, pulsing softly with the tempo of their love-

He felt the sting as Clark pulled away, when it was all over. Felt the chill of the air as Kal left, shame curling through him.

 _I'm sorry,_ he said to no one in particular. Clark, himself, a million other people. Lois. _It had to be done. He has to trust me-_

When he was sure Kal had left (murmuring something about patrol in Washington) he rolled over, an arm under his head. Breathed in, then out. 

"Security footage," he told the ship, "The past hour. Delete immediately."

"Deleting," the ship replied. After a quick pause, the ceiling pulsed. "Any other commands?"

He rolled to his feet, unashamed of his nakedness. The air was cool on his skin, calming his racing heart. This was it. This was the test, to see if everything he'd just done had been worth it-everything he'd finally given into. Everything he was already blocking from his memory.

"Open the door."

He held his breath. _Please, please, please..._

He looked up at the ceiling, repeating the command.

" _Open the door_."

The infirmary door slid open.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, but also lots of plot. And then some more angst, because, you know, Injustice and all that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised myself I'd get my homework done, and then I sat down and wrote this all in one go. Am I sorry? Probably. Hope you enjoy anyway!

_**Before** _

_Bruce shot one last look at the ceiling, then reached out a hand. He touched Kal's jaw, then added a second hand. Kal closed his eyes, tilting his head up as Bruce leaned in._

_He kissed Kal's lips and pretended they were Clark's, ran a hand through those curls, and for a second, it wasn't a stretch. It was perfect. It was everything._

_He pretended it was Clark's hand that pushed him down lightly, pulled at the tie at his waist, hooked his knees up over his shoulders. Clark's hands framing his face as they made love, the ship above them dimming, pulsing softly with the tempo of their love-_

_He felt the sting as Clark pulled away, when it was all over. Felt the chill of the air as Kal left, shame curling through him._

_I'm sorry, he said to no one in particular. Clark, himself, a million other people. Lois. It had to be done. He has to trust me-_

_When he was sure Kal had left (murmuring something about patrol in Washington) he rolled over, an arm under his head. Breathed in, then out._

_"Security footage," he told the ship, "The past hour. Delete immediately."_

_"Deleting," the ship replied. After a quick pause, the ceiling pulsed. "Any other commands?"_

_He rolled to his feet, unashamed of his nakedness. The air was cool on his skin, calming his racing heart. This was it. This was the test, to see if everything he'd just done had been worth it-everything he'd finally given into. Everything he was already blocking from his memory._

_"Open the door."_

_He held his breath. Please, please, please…_

_He looked up at the ceiling, repeating the command._

_"Open the door."_

_The infirmary door slid open._

* * *

_**Now** _

Clark looked up and down the line of JL members, fidgeting with the edge of his cape. The computer in front of them was whirring strangely under J'onn's fingers, alternating between beeps and flashes of dialogue.

"Calm down," Diana said next to him, placing a hand on his. The Amazon was in full warrior mode, but a hint of fondness softened her eyes. "You're making everyone else nervous."

Sure enough, the rest of the assembled Justice League looked just as worried as he did. Hal was sending the machinery nervous glances, fussing over a spot of dirt on his gloves. Aquaman was strangely silent, staring out of the windows at the broad expanses of outer space; Flash was actually sitting down, his head in his hands. Shayera was talking quietly with him, but she seemed exhausted as well.

_This isn't right,_ Clark thought to himself as J'onn finished the final pre-checks on the portal. _Bruce would have had them up and ready by no-_

_No,_ he told himself firmly, clenching his fists. _Don't think about what Bruce would have done. It doesn't matter, anymore. What are_ you _going to do, huh?_

"Everyone," he said loudly, heads snapping up at the sound of his voice. He stepped forward so they could hear him. "I, uh, I wanted to thank you for agreeing to this...mission." He swallowed awkwardly, getting a reassuring nod from Diana. "You don't have to do this...you're risking your lives, and I just wanted to let you know that, uh, that means the world to me."

Even Aquaman's face softened at his words. Flash sent him a small grin, speeding over to the group. Shayera hefted her mace a little higher, while Diana and J'onn shared a smile.

"We're getting Batman back," Clark said, looking over to J'onn. The alien looked up from the computer, indicating that the pre-checks were completed. "So...thank you."

"Let's go kick ass," Hal said, raising a fist. "Who's with me?"

" _That's_ your battle cry?" Flash turned to him, crossing his arms. " _Let's go kick ass_? You couldn't have come up with _anything-_ "

Clark felt himself smile for the first time in weeks, just a tiny twitch of his lips, but it was enough. J'onn opened the portal and the small squabble quieted as the room dimmed.

For a second, all he could see was light, then a small burst of color appeared in the center. A barren desert lay ahead, wind whistling across the sand.

"They'll know we're coming," Clark said, more to himself than to the group. He pushed down his nerves, focusing on the rage, the brokenness inside of him. Bruce's voice, just a soft whisper in his ear. "They'll attack us immediately."

Diana strode forward, drawing her sword. There was a vicious smile across her face as she stepped through the portal, one boot on either side.

"Let them try."

* * *

It took almost a day to convince the ship to reveal the location of his Kryptonite rings. As he'd guessed, Kal-El hadn't outright destroyed them, but he had hidden them well.

He'd been returned to his room after Kal-El's departure, a pair of guards walking him from the infirmary back to his cell. Now that he knew the ship would listen to him, their presence didn't threaten him. He let himself be led, already dividing his time into _with Kal_ and _without Kal._

_Objectives,_ he thought to himself as he laid down across his sleeping platform, just the smallest ache in his back. _Retrieve rings. Possibly form some kind of armor. Escape._

Escape. It was easier said than done. He had no doubts that he could eventually escape Kal's Fortress, but navigating the terrain outside was a different story. He had no cold weather gear, no way to call for help, and a virtual beacon within his chest. _Your heartbeat_ -

Though it pained him to consider it, his plan needed time. He needed to think through every step, and proceed cautiously. Kal, as enamored as he was currently, would see through any obvious ploys.

_So keep playing with him,_ a voice whispered, _keep him distracted._

_I can't._ Bruce thought viciously, _I can't do this anymore-_

One time was a mistake. Two times? It was laughable. Batman, whoring himself out for an escape attempt? The Joker would have laughed for _months_. Laughed at his weakness, at his _shame_.

He was in this middle of a similar line of thought when the wall to his cell disappeared. He sat up, praying it wasn't Kal-El. He didn't know if he could face the Kryptonian so soon after-after they had-

Bruce felt himself go pale as Nightwing walked in, accompanied by Flash. The guards were visible briefly before the wall settled back into place.

"...Dick?" he asked, horrified. _Not Dick-he wouldn't have-_

Barry jerked his head sideways, looking at his companion. "He doesn't _know_?"

"How was he supposed to know?" Nightwing replied bitterly, ignoring Bruce. "He's from a different world."

The words-the voice-the tone. All _wrong_. Now that he looked closely, he could see the slight difference in stature-Dick's muscles hadn't been quite that defined, even as he'd bulked up. His hair had been just a little darker. He'd smiled more…

"Damian," Bruce finished, standing from the platform. The pair stood where they'd entered, unmoving, watching him. "You've grown."

"You look younger," his son replied, shrewd. He looked him over critically, lips pursing in such a familiar way, it made his chest hurt. "What has he done to you?"

Barry put a hand out, as if he could calm the tension in the room with a gesture. "Ba-Bruce. Nightwing wanted to see you-"

His son snorted. "I didn't."

"-and I said he could come with while I visited," Barry finished, sending him a weak smile. Out of all of the fallen JL members, he looked the most like his former self. "How, uh, are you?"

"You mean how am I walking suddenly?" Bruce asked, watching as Barry's gaze settled on his ribs. "Kal-El grew tired of smashing his toys. Lucky, isn't it?"

Damian's face scrunched up behind his domino mask. "You make being his consort sound like a _chore_. Father would never complain like this-"

"Consort?" Bruce asked abruptly, the surprise evident in his voice. "Is that what he told you?"

Barry's head dropped in guilt, while Damian merely stared at him. The speedster looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "I uh…"

He couldn't stand not knowing any longer. Damian was carefully avoiding eye contact, still managing to glare at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Where's Dick?" Bruce directed at his son. At his scoff, he grew angry. "Don't you dare lie to me, Damian. I might be from a different universe, but I am _still_ your father."

Flash flinched so hard, he seemed to blur in place. "I think we should-"

"As if." Damian grunted, interrupting him. He looked at Bruce, a familiar anger burning in his eyes-he saw it in the mirror every now and then. "Your _real_ son is dead. It was my fault, like you've told me a _million_ times!"

Bruce's heart almost stopped. The Flash ducked out of the room, leaving them alone as he processed...everything. Damian's fury, the sheen of tears in his eyes. _Dick. Dick was dead…_

"How?" he choked out finally, Damian's gaze flicking up, then back down to his boots. "How did he die?"

"I threw an escrima stick at his head," Damian said, monotone, poking at a scuff mark on his sole. "He wasn't looking-I-we always used to play like that. He _always_ caught it-I just-" he broke off, blase attitude disappearing as tears choked his voice. "He didn't see it. I didn't _mean_ to. I swear…"

Bruce watched as his son's shoulders drooped, saw how his retelling of the story tore him apart.

He was so much taller now, so much bigger than he remembered. He'd grown up...and now he'd lost everyone. _Dick, Me...all in the span of a few years…_

"Damian," he started, moving towards his son. The other man flinched violently, backing up. He recognized those signs-Damian thought he was being punished.

"Don't you _dare_ try to lecture me," he said, pointing at him. "Not after what you've done-"

" _Damian_ ," Bruce said more firmly, managing a few steps before Damian jumped back again. He sighed. "Damian...I'm not mad at you."

There was a pause as Damian considered this, struck silent. "You...you're not?"

Bruce ran a hand across his face, willing the grief and anger back. "If you mean what you said...I know you and Dick used to play that game all the time. Was it a mistake? Was it reckless to play like that?"

Damian's face had gone pale. His fists clenched at his sides, shaking with the pressure.

"Yes," Bruce said, finally. "It was. But Dick loved you, and I know you respected him. You didn't mean it. It was a horrible accident…"

He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for this universe's Bruce. To lose a son, again? To lose _Dick_ of all people, the one who'd always laughed the loudest, whose smile always lit up the room, no matter what had happened that day…

_It must have been hell,_ Bruce thought, looking at his remaining son. _For all of us_.

"I forgive you," he told Damian simply, closing his eyes against the sting of tears. "I know it's not the same…"

He was surprised by a pair of arms wrapping around his waist, squeezing him tightly. He opened his eyes to find Damian hugging him tightly like he'd never done before, face pressed against his bare chest.

Bruce swallowed around the lump in his throat, carding a hand through his son's hair. He'd hardly ever done this before...only when Damian had been asleep, or worse. His stubborn son…

_So much like his old man,_ Clark's voice said, a hint of sadness to his words. _You're both so stubborn. Didn't you ever wonder where he got it from?_

_I need to get back,_ he thought suddenly, panic overtaking him. _I need to see them again. I can't do this anymore-_

"I..uh.." Damian pulled back, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes. Bruce let him go, shifting a step back so they could separate. He didn't look at Bruce, forcing his features back into a mask. "How is the _alien_ treating you?"

_Now that's the Damian I remember,_ Bruce thought, unable to keep his lips from twitching. "Could be better. Being able to breathe again is...nice."

"He hurt you," Damian surmised quickly, glancing around the room. "Is he holding you prisoner?"

"What do you think?" Bruce asked quietly, nodding at the walls. "You're on his side, aren't you? Why do you care?"

Damian's jaw clenched. "It's not right."

_Tell me about it._

"It isn't," Bruce agreed softly, glancing at the perfect skin on his chest-unmarked, unbruised. Untouched. "He really has...changed."

"What are you planning?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Your escape attempt," Damian said impatiently, crossing his arms. He looked so much like his younger self-yet at the same time, Bruce saw Dick in the motion, and his throat burned. "What have you accomplished so far?"

"What makes you think I have a plan?"

Damian shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. "You always do."

"You'll turn me in."

"Or," Damian said carefully, looking at the ceiling. "I'll help you."

"Why would you do that?" Bruce asked, feeling genuine shock curl through his chest. _From what I can tell, this universe's version of me wasn't exactly dad of the year…_

"Don't ask stupid questions," Damian said dismissively. He met his gaze evenly, and Bruce was shocked to see they were almost the same height. "What do you need?"

He thought it over-the possibility that Damian was lying, that this was a test, or a trap of some sort. Kal determining his loyalty from afar, watching his every move-and, yet. Something about Damian's tone made him pause.

"I need your lead pouch," he said finally, "and some gloves. A grapple line if you can spare it."

"Done," Damian reached into Nightwing's belt, pulling out the requested items. He dropped them in Bruce's hands, his carefully-constructed mask breaking briefly. "This...this never happened."

Bruce just nodded, still a little shocked. He watched as Damian turned and walked towards the door, lithe and powerful. He commanded attention, shoulders squared like he was ready to take on the world. He probably was.

"Damian," he called out, just as the wall dematerialized. Nightwing's head whipped back, staring at him. "I'm-I'm proud of you. Don't forget that."

There was the briefest of pauses, then Damian left, the wall sliding into place behind him.

* * *

"There," Diana said, pointing at a point on the screen. "Our sensors register a large output from this location."

The compound buzzed around him, the sound of their soldiers marching, up and down, up and down, picking at his eardrums. Why had Diana asked them to meet here? She knew he hated it, and yet-

"They are on the move," J'onn warned, pointing at the screen. "It appears to be at least four people, if not more. If we don't intercede soon-"

Kal-El studied the hologram, the rest of the Justice League silent around them. J'onn was sitting, watching the discussion carefully. Shayera and Hal looked ready to leap into battle. Flash was conspicuously absent.

"They're here," Superman said finally, face grave. He looked at Diana. "I need to go to the Fortress."

"You need to stay and _fight_ ," she said, pointing at the screen. "We're outnumbered, Kal-"

"Bruce is my primary concern," he said coldly, shrugging off the outraged looks he received. "I'm leaving for the Fortress. It's not safe."

"I've had enough of this," Diana said viciously, swinging her arm out. Before he could turn away, her lasso settled around his chest. The Amazon yanked on it, pulling him to his knees. "Enough! Do you hear me?" she roared, "He is _nothing_. _Nothing_! The world, the world that _you and I_ created, is about to fall to pieces! And you want to run away and _play house_ with a traitorous, two-faced human!"

Kal forced himself to his feet, struggling against the lasso's hold. "Let me go."

"No," Diana said, tightening her grip on the golden rope. "I don't think I will."

With a roar, he threw himself forward, barrelling into the Amazon. They tumbled into the far wall, shattering the stone. Diana's lasso fell away as they wrestled in mid air, clawing and punching at each other.

* * *

"Well," Hal Jordan said uncertainly, "They're where you said they'd be, J'onn."

"What are you seeing?" Clark asked through the comms, sounding worried. "I'm in place on the other side, but I can't see _anything_."

Hal peered through the window, dodging out of the way as a chunk of rebar was tossed through it, followed by an enraged-looking Diana.

"Yeah…" Hal said as Not-Diana finally noticed his presence, swinging around towards him. "I'm gonna need some backup here, ASAP."

"On my way," Diana said, Shayera repeating an affirmative half a second later. Hal quickly threw up a shield construct as the Amazon approached.

"Diana," Hal said loudly, "You look gorgeous, as always. What's with the, uh, breasts?"

Not-Diana glanced down at her fairly revealing costume, then back at him. A grin sharp enough to cut diamonds twisted her lips.

"For that," she said, "I'll kill you slowly."

Hal made a squeaking noise, feeling his balls shrink back a little. He dodged her first hit, her sword whistling past his face. "Where's that backup, guys? I don't know if you know this, but when I use the abbreviation _ASAP,_ I truly mean as _soon_ as possible-"

* * *

With a little prodding, the ship deleted Damian's betrayal from its memory. As soon as he had everything packed, he coerced it to open the door again, recalling the map he'd forcibly memorized a few hours ago. _I have to get back. I can't wait any longer-_

"Open the wall, please," he told the ship. He grinned as the far wall disappeared on the first command, the floor shifting slightly under his feet. "Thank you."

_Left, right, then down the first set of stairs. Right hand door, then they should be right there-_

He dispatched the guards with little difficulty, knocking them out with a solid blow to the head. "Ship, where is Kal-El?"

"Kal-El is currently in Phillips military base in Washington D.C.," the ship replied, sounding mildly peeved. Bruce turned, quickly navigating the stairs. He walked just a little faster now-not enough to really change anything, but enough for him to notice. "Sir?"

"Continue confirming his presence for the next ten minutes," Bruce said absently, turning down yet another hallway. He stopped at one of the alien-looking doors, taking a quick breath. "Open this door please."

"Sir," the ship said, doing as he requested. Bruce watched as the door slid into the wall, revealing a large room. At the center sat a small table, Bruce's rings perched carefully inside a glass case.

_He kept it far away so it wouldn't hurt him,_ he thought, _so why not lock it up in something lead?_

"Hazardous material ahead." The ship said, sounding irritated. "Please return to your quarters."

"No," Bruce said dismissively, stepping into the room. As soon as he did, a wave of nausea hit him. Needles dug into his eyes and throat, choking him. "Ah…"

"Hazardous material ahead," the ship repeated, "Please return to your quarters."

_It's only 15%,_ he told himself, fighting against the pain as he took another step into the room. _Christ, if Clark feels this every time…_

It must have been agony. He was only feeling a fraction of true Kryptonite sickness, and his legs were already shaking. With a trembling hand, he grabbed the two rings from the case, almost crying out as the stone hit his flesh.

_Get it into the lead pouch,_ he ordered himself, _Get it in, and you'll be fine. You'll-_

With a moan, he opened the pouch and stuffed them in, sealing it quickly. He gasped as the room flared back into focus, leaving him sweaty and panting. He stumbled backwards, falling to the floor gracelessly.

"Return to your quarters," the ship said softly, as if in afterthought. Bruce looked up at the ceiling, wiping a hand across his face.

_I need to get out of here before it calls Kal-El,_ he thought, leaning his head back against the wall. He pressed his hands to the floor, pushing himself up, but he was still absurdly weak. _All this for 15%? Christ…_

"Bruce!"

He froze, then pushed himself to his feet. Kal-El's voice echoed down the hallway, sending shivers down his spine. The ship was supposed to have been-

_No,_ he guessed, _it was overriding its orders by protecting you. And you were too dumb to realize-_

"What the hell are you-" Kal-El paused in the doorway as he saw Bruce on his knees, struggling to his feet. "Bruce!"

_It's now or never._

"Get back," Bruce said, pulling the rings from the pouch. He took in a shaky breath as they slid onto his fingers. "Stay the _fuck_ away from me."

Kal-El's expression was pure betrayal, tinged with pain as the green light reached him. "What are you _doing_?"

"Leaving," Bruce said, pressing himself against the wall so Kal couldn't see how weak this was making him. "Don't."

Kal-El paused in his advance, his skin rapidly losing color. "Ship, lock down this hallway."

"Ignore that order," he told the ship, gratified when nothing happened. Kal El looked outraged, and it was the tiniest of successes, but it _mattered_ for some reason. Bruce smiled weakly. "Your ship listens to me now."

"No," Kal said slowly, looking at the ceiling. "I don't think it does. Lock down the hallway _now_."

The doors slid shut, locking them into the room. Bruce inhaled quickly, watching his opponent carefully. "You don't have to do this."

"I'm trying to _protect_ you!" Kal-El shouted, anger twisting his handsome face. "I thought we were-"

"What?" Bruce asked, laughing incredulously. Kal-El paused. "You thought that I-that I _loved you_? That you healed me, _great,_ we're okay?"

"I need you," Kal-El said desperately, inching towards him. He stumbled a little, falling to his knees. "I love you…"

"Open the doors," Bruce told the ship, which continued to ignore him. " _Open the doors, Kal-El_!"

"Don't tell me you can't feel it," Kal-El said viciously, from his position on the floor. His eyes were burning, locking onto him like he was prey. "I can _sense_ you. We're connected, whether you want to be or not."

Bruce yelled out, slamming a fist across the Kryptonian's face. "You almost _killed_ me, you bastard!"

"Maybe," Kal spit blood, Bruce's fists aching from the Kryptonite, itching to swing again. "You still spread your legs-"

He hit him again, then again, the pain digging into his chest, constricting his heart. He couldn't tell what was Kryptonite and what was pure rage, one bleeding into another as he fell to his knees in front of Kal-El.

A hand tugging on his fingers dragged him back to reality, making him cry out as his rings were removed. Cool fingers smoothed across his forehead, soothing him.

"Bruce," a familiar voice said. "Bruce, open your eyes."

Clark's face hovered above him. He swung out at the other man, horrified that it hadn't been enough-how had Kal-El removed the rings? How had he-

"Bruce," Clark said, tears in his eyes, and then he _realized._ Kal-El's unconscious form was just behind Clark's cape, streaked with blood. "It's me. You're safe. It's me."

"Clark," he said, repeating it. "Clark…"

Then darkness overtook him, and he knew nothing.

* * *

Clark nearly cried out in rage as Bruce passed out in his arms. He was covered in the double's blood, but he seemed more fatigued than he should be. A quick scan made him tilt his head, looking closer. _Is that...Kryptonian-_

He threw the rings into the far corner, gasping as the hold on his chest loosened. He'd been up against worse, but the sensation never failed to floor him. Now Bruce knew…

"Come to...save him?"

Clark startled as the double shifted on the floor, moving to stand in front of Bruce. He felt his eyes burn red, grabbing the false Superman and hauling him up by the front of his suit.

"I should kill you." He growled, feeling rage burn through him, tempered only by the knowledge that Bruce was safe. _Bruce was safe._

The Justice League were still fighting when he'd left, trailing Superman across the sky, but they'd have a handle on things soon. It was over.

"Go ahead…" the double gasped, blood dribbling down his chin. He smirked a little around the ruin of his mouth. "Do it…."

Clark almost did-he felt the fire in his eyes, the strength in his bones, and he was just about to reach out when the double choked out a laugh.

"...but I'll take him with me," it bit out, grinning up at him. "Do you understand?"

"You-" Clark felt realization burn through him, turning to look at Bruce.

_No. No, it couldn't-he couldn't-_

"You mated with him," he said, horrified, numb.

_Bruce-_

"Does it hurt?" the double asked, his face healing before Clark's eyes as the effects of the Kryptonite lessened. "Knowing that I took something that you will... _never..._ be able to have?"

With a roar, he threw the Kryptonian into the far wall with all of his might. The double hit it and slid to the floor, laughing brokenly. Clark was on him in a heartbeat, swinging and swinging, trying to hit _something_ -

Suddenly, the double was on top of him, punching back just as eagerly, hitting him with enough force to split bedrock. His vision whited out, and then the other Kryptonian was on top of him, his hands around his neck.

_No…_ he thought, struggling, but the other man was too strong. _I…_

An arm wrapped around the double's neck, Kryptonite glittering. Bruce wrenched him back, a ring on either hand as he forced the Kryptonian onto his knees.

"Get away from him," he said between gritted teeth, so familiar, so _Bruce_ that it made Clark's chest burn. "Or I'll break your neck."

The double groaned, eyes glowing red. He twisted in Bruce's hold, pushing at the lock around his neck. Clark tried to leap up, to push Bruce out of the way-

With a last glance at Clark, Bruce pulled his hands upwards, twisting the Kryptonian's neck. With an audible _snap,_ the double fell to the floor, dead.

_Silence._

Clark was on his feet before he could register the death, reaching out for Bruce, watching him anxiously, looking for any sign-

"Clark," Bruce wavered on his feet, "Clark, I-"

His eyes rolled back, his whole body going lax. Clark barely caught him before he hit the floor, stumbling forward, still weak from the Kryptonite.

" _BRUCE_!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is faced with the consequences of Bruce's sacrifice. The author decides she is nowhere near wrapping up this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, everyone! Just a quick note--there's some dubious dubcon down below, but from the context, I think it is fairly self-explanatory that both parties would normally consent. However, it is dubcon, so you were warned!

_**Before** _

_Suddenly, the double was on top of him, punching back just as eagerly, hitting him with enough force to split bedrock. His vision whited out, and then the other Kryptonian was on top of him, his hands around his neck._

No… _he thought, struggling, but the other man was too strong._ I…

_An arm wrapped around the double's neck, Kryptonite glittering. Bruce wrenched him back, a ring on either hand as he forced the Kryptonian onto his knees._

_"Get away from him," he said between gritted teeth, so familiar, so Bruce that it made Clark's chest burn. "Or I'll break your neck."_

_The double groaned, eyes glowing red. He twisted in Bruce's hold, pushing at the lock around his neck. Clark tried to leap up, to push Bruce out of the way-_

_With a last glance at Clark, Bruce pulled his hands upwards, twisting the Kryptonian's neck. With an audible snap, the double fell to the floor, dead._

_Silence._

_Clark was on his feet before he could register the death, reaching out for Bruce, watching him anxiously, looking for any sign-_

_"Clark," Bruce wavered on his feet, "Clark, I-"_

_His eyes rolled back, his whole body going lax. Clark barely caught him before he hit the floor, stumbling forward, still weak from the Kryptonite._

_"BRUCE!"_

* * *

_**Now** _

Diana entered the room just as Clark let out a horrified shout, watching as a blood-covered Bruce fell into his arms, unconscious. He had a Kryptonite ring on either hand, the green rock glowing dully against his skin.

Clark gathered Bruce to him quickly, removing the rings with a hiss and throwing them across the room. Diana shook herself, stepping forward to help.

"I'm sorry," Clark was whispering into Bruce's hair, face pressed to his neck. "I'm so sorry, Bruce. I'm so--"

The second she moved to touch Bruce, Clark was ten feet away, the gust of air startling her. His eyes were a vicious red, burning bright enough to blind a human.

She put her bracelets up, feeling something like true fear for the first time in years. "Clark--"

"Diana," he gasped, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes dimmed. He lifted Bruce's body, wavering on his feet a little as he stood. "We need to get him to the Watchtower. I--please. I don't think I can--"

She took in the broken Superman thrown across the floor, her gaze drifting back to Bruce's face, still covered in blood. With a quick shift in posture, she took Bruce's weight from the Kryptonian. He was unnaturally still against her chest, his breath coming in hurried, shallow waves.

"The others are finishing up back at the base," she said, for lack of anything else to say. He followed her out of the bloody room, eyes still glowing softly, a faint red to his pupils. "J'onn left the portal open--"

They entered a large chamber with an open ceiling, the Arctic wind blowing her hair back. Kal's Fortress was barren around them, the glowing walls holding none of the warmth she remembered from their own world.

"Clark--"

"Go," he said, not meeting her gaze. There was a smear of blood across his cheekbone, a pair of handprints fading around his throat. "I'll be right behind you."

She doubted that, somehow. With a quick nod, she gathered Bruce and took off, her heart hammering in her chest.

* * *

Nightwing looked up from the computer, relief spreading across his face.

"You're back."

Green Lantern had an arm around Shayera's neck, nursing a broken nose and an impressive pair of black eyes. J'onn was a quick step behind them, composed as ever. Barry flashed him a grin, limping a little as he exited the portal.

"Let me just say this for the benefit of everyone still listening," Hal exclaimed, holding a finger up. "Never tell a woman her costume is revealing."

"Learned your lesson, didn't you?" Shayera muttered, handing him off to Barry, who helped him into a chair. "The rest of us knew that already."

"Oh, I learned my lesson," Hal pressed at his nose gingerly, hissing. His blackened eyes caught on Dick, narrowing slightly. "Diana will hit you for being an asshole in _any_ dimension."

"I think everyone would hit you at some point," Barry pointed out wearily, smirking at the Green Lantern. "You just make it easy for her."

"See if I save _your_ ass again, Speedy McSassy--"

Nightwing touched J'onn's shoulder lightly, pulling him away.

"I--"

"I don't know," the alien said, answering his unspoken question with a weary sigh. "Diana flew after Superman as we were fighting, presumably to rescue Batman...They should be back soon."

"Right," Dick said, forcing a smile onto his lips. The remaining Justice League members lingered by the portal, refusing to limp to the infirmary just yet. Even Hal was sending worried glances at the blank portal, something close to fear in his eyes.

The tension in the room visibly peaked as Diana's boot split the portal a moment later. Dick nearly cried out as Bruce's body was revealed, on his feet and across the room without a word. _No. No--_

"Kal's behind me," Diana said softly to J'onn, who inclined his head. She hefted Bruce a little higher in her arms, biting her lip. Silence reigned as the Justice League looked on over their founder, without his cowl, bare to the waist and covered in blood.

_Is he even alive--_

Dick grabbed his adoptive father's hand without thinking, praying he'd find a pulse there. Relief like he'd never felt it before coursed through him, leaving him weak. Bruce was breathing shallowly, the rise and fall of his chest almost invisible under the blood.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Diana's eyes were glazed over, caught on the edge of the portal. She seemed to be waiting for Superman, which was fairly uncharacteristic of her. Bruce's head was tucked against her chest, resting on her collarbone. "It's not his blood. He has no visible...injuries…"

The adrenaline seemed to be wearing off, leaving her a little shaky. Dick held his hands out, surprised when she handed him Bruce without protest. Together, they lowered him to the floor, almost reverent in their care.

Kal-El stepped through a moment later, very little of Clark Kent in his demeanor. His eyes glowed, rage written across his face, his hands clenched at his sides.

Dick stepped back a little in shock; for the first time in his decades of knowing Clark, he felt truly fearful of the other man. This wasn't the man who'd snuck him out for a Miller on his sixteenth birthday, or the friend who'd always had an open ear for his problems. This was a god, full of righteous fury and power.

"Shut it down," Superman ordered J'onn as soon as he was clear. The alien flicked a few switches, the portal closing. When it was done, Clark's eyes burned, sending twin lasers into the machinery.

The room filled with acrid smoke as the plastic burned, the metal twisting into a shapeless mass on the floor. Within seconds, the portal archway was destroyed. Superman hadn't even waited to see the task through; as soon as the computer had caught on fire, he was at Bruce's side, his worry tangible.

"He has kryptonite poisoning," Superman said, looking Bruce over carefully. He grabbed the other man in his arms, standing. He seemed weaker than normal, wavering a little on his feet as he found his balance. "I need to take him to the sun lamps, or he'll die."

"How can he have kryptonite poisoning?" Shayera asked, "He's not Kryptonian--"

Clark simply sidestepped the Thanagarian, face blank. He was gone in a gust of wind, Bruce disappearing with him, safely ensconced in his arms.

The door to the room swung on its hinges, shattering as it slammed into the wall. Silence fell, the sound of glass hitting the floor the only sound.

* * *

He tugged Bruce onto the sunlamp platform in a near-panic, flicking the switches as quickly as possible. He was back to his side in a half-second, unwilling to be parted for any amount of time.

Bruce's pulse rabbited under his touch, the light burning down on both of them. His eyes were clenched shut, a line appearing between his brows. He mumbled something quietly, twisting under the lamps' heat.

 _Just stay still,_ Clark wanted to beg him, fear curling through his stomach. _You'll get better soon, I swear, Bruce, just stay still--_

He flipped to his X-Ray vision with some difficulty, the exposure to the Kryptonite still dogging him. Bruce's cells were part Kryptonian now, there was no doubt; he watched as they responded slowly to the light, expanding and multiplying.

Bruce let out a choked gasp, startling him.

"It's alright," Clark whispered, stroking his brow, feeling his own skin react to the light as he leaned over the other man. He reached down to unfasten Bruce's pants, exposing his skin to even more light. "You'll--"

A hand wrapped around his wrist before he could untie them. Clark startled as he tried to move backwards, unable to loosen the iron grip. Bruce's eyes were open, his eyes bluer than he'd ever seen them.

"No," the billionaire said, dazedly, not focusing on Clark. "Not you. I want Clark."

He breathed in, horrified at what that revealed, what he could assume-but he didn't want to. Didn't want to think about what Kal-El had done-what he'd _taken_ , apparently by force. "Bruce, it's me."

"Don't touch me," Bruce muttered, throwing Clark's wrist away from his waist. He stumbled a little with the force of it, still weak from the Kryptonite. The other man made a pained noise as his eyes closed, curling into himself. "I want...Clark…"

He reached for the other man, the pain in his chest so strong, he could barely breathe. "Bruce--"

"Leave me _alone_!"

A hand slammed into his chest, sending him flying backwards. The shock of hitting the wall was nothing compared to the surprise of Bruce's strength. He slid down to the floor, his back throbbing. _What the hell_ \--

Bruce's delirious gaze met his, and there was a small moment of clarity as they stared at each other across the infirmary. Then, with a small gasp, the other man fell unconscious again, eyes rolling back into his head as he dropped onto the platform.

 _This isn't normal,_ a part of him whispered over the hurt and surprise, _this isn't just kryptonite poisoning anymore._

Bruce wasn't _his,_ but the urge to protect-to curl around him and reassure-was too strong. He couldn't think beyond his need to _help,_ dazed and confused by this sudden onslaught of instincts. Had this been how Kal-El had felt? Was this what Jor-El had warned him about, all those years ago?

Without a conscious thought, he had Bruce in his arms again, moving for the door.

* * *

From what he could tell, Kal-El had completely disabled the Fortress' copy of Jor-El's consciousness. The ship had taken all of his duties over completely, regulating them with mechanical ease, erasing any sort of connection to Krypton. Walking through the other Fortress had been an alien experience, even to him, somehow too clean and perfect.

He couldn't begin to describe the relief that coursed through him when he landed in _his_ Fortress and saw Jor-El waiting for him, arms folded across his robes. His father would know what to--or the ship could tell him.

He placed Bruce at his birth father's feet, cradling his head so it wouldn't jarr against the floor.

Without reprieve from the Kryptonite still in his veins, the flight had been nearly impossible. The zeta from the Watchtower had only taken them a mile away, but his strength was flagging every minute without access to the sun. He lowered himself to his knees in front of Jor-El, limbs trembling.

"Help him," he gasped, chest heaving, " _Please_."

Jor-El's frown was the last thing he saw, darkness edging in. He collapsed next to Bruce on the floor, and knew nothing.

* * *

He woke an indeterminate amount of time later, feeling the sun lamps from the Fortress radiating heat down to his skin. He cracked an eye open, relishing the return of his strength even as his heart began to beat wildly. Where was Bruce?

"Kal-El--"

He sat up quickly, stilled by a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Jor-El next to him, lips pursed. Clark flinched at the sound of his birth name.

"Don't call me that."

 _That was_ his _name--_

Clark cut that thought off, turning away from his father.

Behind him, Bruce lay under set of the lamps, paler than he should have been. His dark hair was matted with sweat, but he shivered as if he were cold, a virtual impossibility under the bright lights. He muttered unintelligibly under his breath, eyes clenched shut.

 _He's dying,_ Clark realized, the idea completely foreign and unwelcome to him. "I need to help him--"

Jor-El let him stand, steadying him briefly as he left the sunlight's reach. His hand was cool against his skin, allowing Clark to center himself.

"You know what you need to do."

"No, I don't," Clark growled, stumbling over to Bruce's prone form. He reached out a hand, almost unwilling to touch, though his every instinct was begging him to. "His mate is dead...he's dying. I...failed." He considered this, briefly, anger flaring through him. " _I failed_!"

His fist hit the wall behind him, shattering it. The Fortress immediately began to reconstruct it, oblivious to his anger. His outrage. His failure.

"By my estimations," Jor-El said, grave, "He has an hour left, maybe two. His bond was broken harshly; something like that would have killed a normal Kryptonian outright."

 _But he'll just suffer for a few hours first,_ Clark thought bitterly. _And then he'll die anyway._ "Why are you telling me this?' he demanded, turning to his birth father. "To increase my pain? To teach me a lesson?"

Jor-El's eyes flashed. "I'm giving you a choice."

"I see no choice."

"You wouldn't, would you?" the other Kryptonian walked away from him, standing above Bruce's head. He looked down, his gaze softening briefly. "You tore the bond viciously. It wasn't a clean break."

"He killed his bondmate," Clark muttered, a bitter taste in his mouth. "To save me."

"You're not listening," Jor-El reminded him, stoking his anger with a mere change in tone. "His bond. It's torn. Not gone completely."

Doubt settled in his chest, a dull ache. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "So?"

"So," An infinite sigh sounded as Jor-El's hand descended, stroking Bruce's cheek lightly. The human seemed to settle with the touch, leaning into his palm. Jor-El looked up, removing the hand. "Take what is yours. Before you both succumb."

Clark froze, mind going blank.

"You're-you must be joking."

"Haven't you noticed?" Jor-El's voice rose, anger bleeding into his tone. He stepped towards Clark. "The decreased strength, the weakness? The inability to move far from him without significant pain?"

"I was exposed to Kryptonite," Clark breathed, unwilling to believe it. "It hasn't worn off yet."

"No," Jor-El said viciously, pointing at Bruce, "Your mate is dying. Even across dimensions, your body recognizes that."

The second he accepted this, he could see just where Bruce's pain ended and his began-the Kryptonite had a hold on both of their hearts. He could feel the pull to the other man increase, his fingertips itching to _touch,_ to hold--

"You're wrong," he told Jor-El, around the lump in his throat. "Kal--the other Superman mated with him already. He...took him."

"It doesn't matter," his father replied, shaking his head slowly. "To this part of him--you're the same."

_Jesus Christ. Maybe Bruce knew that--_

Clark ran a hand through his hair, watching as Bruce shifted under the lamps, muttering his name.

"He doesn't have time," Jor-El reminded him, "You must do this."

"I-" Clark's mind went to Lois, the sudden onslaught of guilt nearly overpowering him. _Lois-Jesus, what was he going to tell Lois?_ "I can't. He's my friend--he can't consent to this. I have... _someone-_ "

"You would let him die?" Jor-El asked, his voice rising to a shout. "Let yourself die, because of your doubts?"

"I couldn't," Clark breathed, feeling dizzy as Jor-El's anger grew. He rested a hand on Bruce's platform, trying to center himself. "He'd hate me."

Jor-El's gaze didn't soften. He crossed his arms, looking down at his son. "He'd be _alive_."

Clark turned and hit the wall again, a roar stripped from his throat.

" _Aghh!_ "

He slammed his fist through his first hole, widening it. The material reformed around his knuckles, as if mocking him. 

 _This isn't fair._  He thought savagely,  _This isn't right--nothing about this is_ right _._

Jor-El watched in silence, arms folded. Clark didn't miss how he moved to stand in front of Bruce's body, protecting him from his rage.

He hit the wall again, again and again, then sank to his knees, breathing heavily as blood welled from cuts across his knuckles.

"Leave me," he told his father, panting. He felt his grief surge, biting down on the emotion. He _wanted,_ so badly, so savagely in that moment. "Leave...us."

Jor-El disappeared, leaving them alone. Clark let his head drop, his eyes burning as he steeled himself.

_It has to be done. He'll die, otherwise._

He repeated the mantra as he stood, forcing every step closer to Bruce. _It has to be done._

_He'll die._

_(He'd hate me)_

Jor-El's words came back to him: _He'll die._

_(He'd never speak to me again)_

_He would be alive--_

With a shaking hand, he switched off the lamps, sealing his fate.

* * *

Cool hands pressed to his temples, soothing the heat that had been burning through him.

He pushed up into the presence, feeling a low whine in his throat. _God,_ but it felt good--

" _Bruce_ ,"

someone was saying his name, so soft, it was almost a whisper.

" _...Bruce, I need you to wake up_."

He felt the cool hand disappear, moaning at its loss. Someone was pressing at him, pushing him into a sitting position. His limbs felt weightless, almost like they belonged to someone else.

" _Bruce, please_ ," the voice begged, a hand at his back. " _Please, open your eyes."_

He forced them open, wincing as light burned into his retinas. The cool hands returned, stroking his face slowly as he relaxed. Clark's face slowly came into focus above him, just a hand's breadth away.

"Clark," Bruce murmured, leaning towards him. The pain in his chest lessened as they touched, the mere physical proximity feeling heavenly. " _Clark_."

"Bruce, you have to listen to me," Clark urged, putting a hand under his chin. _Christ,_ but had his eyes always been so blue? "We don't have much time--"

He lost track of what he was said after that moment, losing himself in the other man's gaze. When Clark seemed to be asking for confirmation, he nodded, too enraptured to do anything else. "Bruce?"

"Yes," he said, frowning when this didn't seem to please the other man. "...Clark?"

" _Christ,_ " Clark swore, ducking his head.

Bruce flinched at the sudden display of anger, nearly falling backwards. _Was he angry with him? What had he done wrong?_

Clark caught him with one arm, paling visibly. "Not at you--I--I'm not mad at _you,_ Bruce. Never."

He framed Bruce's face in his hands, drawing him close. They were inches apart now, Clark's eyes burning into his. All he could feel was the coolness of his skin, the desire to press himself closer against the other man.

"I pray to God you'll forgive me one day," Clark said thickly, his expression devastated. "Bruce--"

He couldn't stand being apart any longer. Bruce grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a burning kiss, threading his fingers through the Kryptonian's hair. He moaned as they pressed closer together, every cell in his body aching with how _right_ it felt.

With a sudden fury, Clark kissed him viciously, pushing him back onto the platform he was sitting on. Bruce could barely keep up as the other man growled against his lips, a hand stripping him of his pants, ripping the fabric like it was tissue paper.

He lost himself in the feeling of their kisses, barely noticing the hands at his ass, the sensation of something slick against his skin.

Sometime later, he cried out as Clark entered him, sliding into him, making him shudder with the sensation of being full, of being filled. 

Every thrust was a surge of light behind his eyelids. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. Clark's face was pressed against his neck, teeth digging into his throat as his movements grew less precise, going faster, faster--

Bruce felt heat like he'd never felt ripple through him, singing along his spine. The muscles in his legs and abdomen clenched involuntarily as he came, Clark breathing heavily against him, making sweet little moans that urged him on, Kryptonian words that were bitten off as he came too, shouting--

He lost track of time again, until suddenly he was being gathered against Clark's side, pressed against the other man. They came down from it together, shuddering.

He burrowed his head into Clark's chest when they were done, exhaustion overtaking him. A hand stroked through his hair slowly, making him hum.

"Jesus," he thought he heard Clark say, overwrought, "Oh god. _Bruce_."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has some sort of crisis, the author desperately tries to stick to Injustice canon, and much angsting is done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments! Here's a longer chapter for you guys. Thanks to [Musicalgirl4474](http://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474) for letting me kvetch about all of my plot ideas.

_**Before** _

_Bruce felt heat like he'd never felt ripple through him, singing along his spine. The muscles in his legs and abdomen clenched involuntarily as he came, Clark breathing heavily against him, making sweet little moans that urged him on, Kryptonian words that were bitten off as he came too, shouting-_

_He lost track of time again, until suddenly he was being gathered against Clark's side, pressed against the other man. They came down from it together, shuddering._

_He burrowed his head into Clark's chest when they were done, exhaustion overtaking him. A hand stroked through his hair slowly, making him hum._

_"Jesus," he thought he heard Clark say, overwrought, "Oh god. Bruce."_

* * *

_**Now** _

J'onn sat at the small desk in his quarters, staring at the wall. He pressed a hand to his head, wincing as the pain grew.

His double's blows had been nothing compared to the sensation of his mind-somehow alien, yet familiar at the same time. The double-vision had been bothering him since they'd managed to escape the parallel universe; now, the images were coming to a head, digging into his memories like they were trying to overlay his own.

_Superman, his eyes blazing red, blood caking his right hand to the elbow. A woman, cradled in his arms, blood across her chest as well. He had a hand under her waist, and one pressed to her stomach. J'onn could sense nothing from the woman, or the child he knew laid just under her skin, where Kal-El's hand was rested so carefully-_

J'onn tore himself away from the image, feeling nauseous. Kal-El's misery was far from enjoyable, regardless of the Kryptonian's sins. Lois Lane had been a special human, strong and daring, a good complement to Clark's shy nature. Her loss had crushed more than a city.

_He saw Batman's despair as the world bowed to Superman, not because of the respect he more than rightly deserved, but out of fear. Watched as Dick Grayson fell, watched as Bruce Wayne was betrayed and broken, watched as Oliver Queen was taken-_

J'onn recoiled at the foreign emotions, feeling the rage and doubt. Had he considered allying himself with Batman? How could Superman's genocidal mission hold such allure? But it wasn't a question of a transfer between absolutes. No. The differences between this world and the next were so minuscule, they were hardly apparent.

_Lois Lane must be protected at all costs,_ he thought viciously, standing from the desk, _This world can never come to be. I cannot allow it._

"J'onn."

He wrested himself away from his thoughts, a hand going to his comm. "Yes, Diana?"

"Superman sent word," she replied, sounding worried. "He found out a way to heal Batman. Both are doing well-"

Without thinking, he reached his mind out to touch Clark's, frowning as he sensed a mess of panic and guilt. Superman was flying to Metropolis, reaching speeds much higher than he would normally dare. He was flying like he was being chased, though J'onn couldn't fathom why that would be.

With the lightest of touches across Bruce's mind, he could only sense confusion and disappointment, and-

_Now, isn't that strange,_ J'onn thought, as Diana continued to speak about debriefs and League protocols in his ear. He could sense a connection between the two minds upon closer examination, growing stronger with every passing second. "Of course, Diana. Please keep me updated."

"I will," the Amazon said, signing off. "See you soon, J'onn."

J'onn turned back to the wall, thinking about everything, and nothing, at once-Clark's soft smile, Kal-El's vicious fury-Bruce's steady heartbeat, thousands of miles away, and a broken Batman on the floor of his own Cave, betrayed by his closest friend. The lauded trinity fractured, Diana a willing collaborator in Kal-El's dictatorship, still so headstrong, even in exile. The youngest Robin caught in the crossfire...

_That world can never happen,_ he repeated to himself, as if he needed convincing. He flinched as another memory struck him, the pain sobering him further. _Or we will all suffer._

* * *

Touching Bruce-holding Bruce-had been an indescribable experience. For a moment, the world had stretched between the two of them. The ache in his chest hadn't just disappeared-Bruce had pressed into the space it had left behind, filling him, surrounding him, until he could barely tell the two of them apart. For an endless moment, he understood Jor-El's speech about bonds and mates. He wanted to laugh, brimming full of joy and the feeling of completion. Bruce was his. Bruce was _his_.

And then they were suddenly separate, breathing fast in each other's arms. He watched as the sickness in Bruce's eyes faded, the billionaire slumped against his chest. His cheeks were flushed, dark hair mussed, obscenely soft against his skin. For a moment, all he could do was stare, incredulous. Floored. Shocked.

_What have I done-_

He'd taken something from Bruce, as surely as he'd torn his own heart out. Taken without asking. Ripped it from him when the man had barely been conscious, delirious with Kryptonite and mating bonds from a world thousands of miles away. Bruce had never been keen to admit his weaknesses, any sort of human faculties that detracted from his mission. He had never cowed before Clark's strength, imagined or not.

_He will never forgive me,_ Clark thought, horrified. Bruce slept on in his arms, and he was counting the breaths until the man would wake up and realize what had happened. Those blue eyes, blinking away sleep, focusing, absorbing a thousand facts, until they began to fill with confusion, realization, and, finally, betrayal.

That look-the accusation in his eyes-was something he didn't think he could survive. Something he couldn't even imagine without his heart racing, fear thrumming through his veins.

(And how _could_ he go on without Bruce, without his closest friend, confidante, ally? The most logical answer was that he couldn't, but that wasn't good enough-could never be good enough, as true as it was)

He stood from the platform, reaching for his clothes. Bruce let out a small sound at his disappearance, one hand curling towards him. Clark's chest ached, briefly, a hot poker digging underneath his ribs, jabbing at his heart. Bruce's eyelids fluttered, a few moments away from consciousness.

Clark swore, eyes stinging, and reached for the bond he could feel forming at the back of his mind. Hot guilt pulsed through him as his mind opened to Bruce. With great effort, he pushed down his own emotions, focusing on a mixture of calm and peace, of happiness and security, and forcing it towards the other end of the bond. He bit back a gasp as he _felt_ the bond ripple, the sensation enough to send him backwards, reeling.

The line between Bruce's brows smoothed, and the man settled almost immediately. His hand dropped to the platform, still outstretched. Eventually, even his breathing evened out, the sound of his heartbeat slowing like distant thunder in Clark's ears.

He stayed long enough to confirm that the Kryptonite had left all of Bruce's cells, then exited the sunroom. The pain in his chest grew with every step. He pushed against it, ignoring the stinging until it settled behind his heart, throbbing like a dull ache.

(He couldn't be like Kal-El, and take. Couldn't be the head of a regime. Couldn't let himself become like that. It was just a step away, though, and that thought shook him to his very core. If he took what he wanted, he was no better)

Jor-El was waiting for him at the entrance, hands folded in front of them. He opened his mouth to speak as Clark walked towards him, expression unreadable.

" _Don't_ ," Clark said, continuing past him. If he even looked at his birth father, he knew he would do something he would regret. He needed to leave, to put distance between himself and _everything._ Needed to fly like he'd never felt before in his life.

"Kal-El-"

Clark felt his eyes burn bright red and didn't bother shutting them, turning to his father with rage in his very bones.

"Don't you ever," he seethed, " _ever_ , speak to me again. You have no idea what you've done. What I've just lost, because of you."

Jor-El's lips pursed, his eyes filled with concern. He said nothing, standing perfectly still as Clark took off, disappearing into the Arctic night, a silent shadow against the Fortress.

* * *

"You doing alright?"

Hal looked up to see Barry in the doorway, an elbow pressed to the doorjamb. He gestured the speedster in, not bothering to get up from the sofa.

"Peachy," he said, trying to put his usual snark into the word. Barry arched an eyebrow, so the attempt must not have been that successful. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for the meeting," Barry shrugged, throwing himself on the opposite sofa. His feet dangled from the couch, swinging absently. He looked like a disgruntled puppy for a second, and the thought cheered Hal. "I don't wanna go down to Earth only to get called up for the debriefing, you know?"

"What's taking it so long anyway?' Hal asked, not really caring. "Usually Bats-"

He cut off, realizing the error of his words. Barry bit his lip, the two of them sharing an awkward silence.

"I heard from Diana that Batman's going to be fine," Barry said, sending him a weak smile. "That's what I came here to tell you. Looks like Big Blue saved the day again."

"That'll do wonders for Batman's ego, I'm sure," Hal muttered, leaning on the familiar banter with a strange sort of nostalgia. "He can barely stand Clark saving his ass in _this_ dimension."

Barry laughed a little at that. "Ain't that the truth."

"You know it, I know it," Hal smirked, the expression feeling strange on his face. He caught Barry staring at him and tried to relax. "You doing alright?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

Hal considered this, slouching further into the couch. "Is anyone okay after fighting their evil twin?"

"Batman, probably." Barry said, completely serious. Hal nodded in agreement. "Me? Not really."

"I can't believe I _went_ evil though," Hal said, looking at his hands. "You know the worst part?"

"What?" Barry asked, concerned. He sat up on the couch,his feet brushing against the carpet. "Having to hurt yourself? Watching your double kill innocent civilians?"

"No," Hal said, frowning. "I look _terrible_ in yellow."

" _That's_ what bothered you?' Barry said, sounding offended. "Not the killing, or the-the _maiming,_ or the kidnapping, but the _color scheme_?"

"Nobody looks good in yellow," Hal said seriously, crossing his arms as his friend fell into a fit of chuckles. "Don't let that poser Sinestro convince you. He looks like some James Bond villain reject from the sixties."

Barry just laughed harder, holding his side. For a moment, the darkness of the past few weeks fell away. Hal felt his own lips twitch, and let himself smile after a moment.

"What's so funny, huh?"

"Nothing," Barry said, gasping. His hair was mussed slightly from the couch, and he looked a good decade younger. The speedster smiled up at him, making his throat ache. "Never change, Hal. Just...never change."

"That's the plan."

* * *

Bruce woke alone, reaching out for a bed-partner long gone. The platform beneath him was strangely familiar, cold where his body hadn't touched the alien material. His eyes slid open, a burst of adrenaline sending him into full consciousness.

For a moment, he was back inside Kal-El's prison, surrounded by nothing but white walls and opaque ceilings. His heart sped up despite himself, dread curling down his spine. _I-_

"Calm yourself."

Bruce spun as a hand settled on his shoulder, twisting on the platform and kicking out at the voice. His leg swept clean through the man's torso, as if nothing was there. _What the hell-_

"Listen to me," the man said, soothing. He had dark hair, cut a little longer than Clark's, and was wearing a strange set of robes. His face was lined, crows' feet at his eyes that would have been endearing elsewhere. "Bruce, please. Calm yourself."

He settled back on his heels, wary. Only now did he realize he was nude, the tension that had been thrumming through him fading. Bruce put the pieces together fairly quickly, examining the man in front of him.

"You're Jor-El," he said, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone. He sat back down on the platform, a sudden wave of dizziness overtaking him. "I, uh..."

Jor-El's hand touched his forehead briefly, strangely cool. Bruce wondered about the physics of that-becoming corporeal suddenly was no small feat-but those thoughts drifted away. "I am. Kal-El is my son."

_Kal-El,_ Bruce thought suddenly. _Where was Clark? What had he-_

"Kal- _Clark_ -is fine," Jor-El cautioned, as if he could read his mind, pronouncing the name with a slight accent. "He took you here to heal. The sunlamps are far more advanced-"

_Sunlamps,_ Bruce reminded himself, _because of the Kryptonite. Because you're part Kryptonian now._

"-and left rather suddenly, I'm afraid," Jor-El continued, his previous words a blur. Bruce frowned, the motion not going unnoticed by the Kryptonian. "I advised him to stay. Leaving you like...this...was not wise."

"What happened to me?" he asked quietly, inclining his head to the program. "I feel…strange."

"You can't sense it?" Jor-El asked with a sad smile, brushing a hand across his chest. He looked so much like Clark for a moment, from the dimples, to the dark curls, and Bruce felt himself responding despite himself. "I would've thought you'd notice by now."

Bruce shut his eyes, finding his center with the ease of decades of mediation. He felt a familiar pair of arms wrapped around him, remembering the hands at his hips, the soft breaths against his neck as they twined together. He gasped as a second set of emotions seemed to overlap his, warmth spreading through his chest. _Clark…_

He shut that side of his mind down, eyes flying open. Jor-El smiled at him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Now you know," the Kryptonian said, expression sobering briefly, "I'm sorry Kal-El isn't here to share this with you."

"I killed Kal-El," Bruce said suddenly, the memory rushing back to him in technicolor. "To save Clark-I-I snapped his neck. I…"

Jor-El's hand tightened at his shoulder, warningly. "You did what you had to."

"How can Clark even look at me?" Bruce whispered, horror building in his chest. "Why would he-he _tie_ himself to me, when I-"

There were a million reasons why Clark wouldn't have sex with him-Lois Lane was at the top of that list. They were friends. He was beyond fucked up, mentally and physically. He had just killed a man with his bare hands, a man he'd slept with _willingly-_

"You were dying," Jor-El said quickly, frowning at him. He seemed to sense the tangent of his thoughts and moved closer. "He had no other choice."

"So it was pity," Bruce said bitterly. "That's why he left. He's disgusted by me."

"He left because he's childish and out of his depth," Jor-El said, piercing blue eyes holding his, demanding he listen. "But his affection for you is genuine. Never doubt that."

Bruce wanted to find hope in those words, wanted them to be true so badly it hurt. He sighed, shifting on the platform. His entire body ached, sore like he'd trained for days. _The kryptonite,_ his brain informed him _, Can't let Clark get away on active duty so soon after exposure anymore if muscle weakness persists as a symptom…_

"I need to get back to Gotham," he said, after a moment of thought. Jor-El tilted his head. "I need to see my children."

_If Clark never wants to see me again, that can be...dealt with. Somehow._

"He told me you were stubborn," Jor-El said in response, turning towards the door. He shook his head once, ever the disapproving parent. "You shouldn't be moving much."

"Did he also tell you I don't listen to medical advice?" Bruce asked, standing awkwardly as he reached for his pants. He slid them on, wiggling his bare feet against the cool floor. Jor-El snorted.

"I'm perfectly capable of observing that myself."

Bruce joined him at the door, ignoring the wave of nausea and dizziness that threatened to overtake him.

"I...I'm probably not the son-in-law you wanted," he said softly, unwilling to look up. "This is all so...unexpected."

"Well, I never thought I'd be getting a bat for a son-in-law," Jor-El's eyes were bright with mirth, reminiscent of Dick's delighted smiles, "So you're mostly correct."

Bruce couldn't help the glare he sent the Kryptonian's way, but it only served to amuse the other man.

"I see where Clark gets his sense of humor."

"That was his mother," Jor-El said, smiling softly. "She used to tell the most terrible jokes. I would always laugh, of course, but they were truly awful."

_Now who does that sound like?_ Bruce asked himself, casting the thought aside. He felt his own lips twitch as they walked down the hall, thinking of Lois Lane's bright laughter. "Lucky for all of us, he found someone who'll laugh at his jokes a little closer to home."

"Yes," Jor-El said, looking at him strangely. Bruce ignored him as they continued towards the main hall, gaze fixed firmly on the floor. "I'm sure we're very lucky he did, aren't we?"

* * *

The second Lois sees him in her apartment, she smacks him. Then she hugs him tight enough that a normal human would have found it hard to breathe. "Clark _Kent_ I was so freaking worried, you idiot-"

He swept her into his arms, smiling as she continued to hit his arm with a well-manicured hand. "Aww, Lo, that means you actually missed me."

"You were gone for more than two weeks!" she cried, kicking at him when his shoulder refused to give way. "Sure, someone from a blocked number called my phone and told me you weren't going to be home for a while, but that makes normal people _worry,_ Clark! Perry's barely eating the cover story I fed him!"

"What was that?" he asked quietly, setting her down. His excitement at seeing her face after the past few weeks lessened suddenly, but the reporter didn't seem to notice. He put a hand to his chest, willing the sudden ache to disappear. Was Bruce awake? Had that been him, testing the bond for a brief second?

"Told him you were on emergency assignment in Central City," Lois said, frowning at him. "He's pissed, but you'll have a job when you show up tomorrow."

"Thanks," he said numbly, looking her over. She was in pantyhose, heels kicked under the couch. A container of chinese food sat on the table, half-eaten. "I, uh…"

"Hey," she said, wrapping an arm around his neck. She pulled his face down until they were nose to nose, staring into each other's eyes. "Smallville. I'm losing you here. What happened?"

"Just tired," he said, biting down on the bile that threatened to rise from his stomach. Touching her felt so _wrong,_ suddenly, and he wanted to cry out. How could _Lois_ be wrong? "I think I need sleep."

"No kidding," she said, letting him go with a quick tug on his hair. "Go crash. I'll be in soon."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, holding the smile until he was out of sight. When she left for the kitchen, he pressed himself to the bedroom wall, feeling another wave of dizziness pass over him.

_You're still weak from the Kryptonite,_ he told himself, heart racing. _That's all this is. The sooner you get over-whatever this thing is-the sooner it's gone. And maybe Bruce won't hate you forever._

His heart refused to slow, and when Lois remarked on it later, when they were pressed against each other, he had no explanation to give.

* * *

Entering the Cave and hearing the familiar sounds of sparring after weeks away was more reassuring than he could say.

He was more than exhausted from the fourteen-hour flight back from the Fortress, body still aching from the Kryptonite. He felt more foreign and unfamiliar than he had after decades away from home. Even so, it was little work to circumvent the proximity alarms, and step into the one place he felt truly secure.

" _Agh!"_

Damian cried out as Dick blocked another kick, frustrated. The two were on the main mat in the center, wearing nothing but sweats and t-shirts. They each had escrima sticks, throwing out blows and blocking almost faster than the eye could see.

Bruce evaluated their forms as he crept towards the mat, the pair too invested in their match to notice. Dick still had the upper hand, but allowed Damian to practice his kicks and jabs, weaving between the smaller boy's assaults with ease.

Despite himself, his heart nearly stopped as Damian's escrima stick just barely kissed Dick's head, ruffling his hair. The two went on fighting, but Bruce's conversation with his son in Kal-El's prison rang in his ears.

_"I threw an escrima stick at his head," Damian said, mouth twisted. "He wasn't looking-I-we always used to play like that. He always caught it-I just-" he broke off, blase attitude disappearing as tears choked his voice. "He didn't see it. I didn't mean to. I swear…"_

Heart in his throat, Bruce moved closer to the mat, until he was almost behind the pair. Damian yelled again as his attack was unsuccessful, prompting a teasing laugh from Dick. It was a familiar song and dance, one he had seen play out a half-dozen times every time the pair sparred.

He moved just in time to catch the thrown escrima stick, no doubt using some of his new Kryptonian strength to do so. Suddenly, he was on the mat between his sons, the stick in one hand. The Cave fell silent.

"Don't ever let me see you throw that at him like that ever again," Bruce turned to his son, his tone harsher than intended. "Do you understand, Damian?"

Damian's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open. For a moment, they stared at each other. Any reply of his was cut off as Dick came to stand beside him, smiling wide.

"Bruce!" a hand clapped him on the shoulder, affection practically leaking from Dick's pores. "Jesus. You look like shit."

"Thanks," he grunted, stepping off the mat. Damian was still staring at him, and even now, he regretted yelling at the boy. "Nice to see I was missed."

"Well, the Watchtower didn't burn down while you were gone," Dick said conversationally, following him towards the stairs. "Gotham is still Gotham, so not much has changed, really."

He thought about the guilt he'd seen in the other Damian's eyes, and bit his lip against the onslaught of emotion. He inhaled once through his nose, looking across the cave.

"Damian," he said softly, sitting down in the chair with a wince. "Why don't you give me a status update?"

Recognizing an olive branch when he saw one, Damian was at his side in a heartbeat.

"Grayson is correct, father," the younger boy said with a sniff, "The crime statistics remain at a consistent level for this time of year. Arkham is still secure; the only major crimes included some gang warfare, but that appeared to be drawn from major cities and doesn't provide evidence of a new trend."

"Are you alright?" Dick asked, having seen his wince a few moments earlier. "Diana said you'd been hurt. Let me call Alfred-"

"Just tired," he said between his teeth, forcing his tone to remain nonchalant. The ache in his chest couldn't be Kryptonite sickness anymore, but the irrational part of him didn't want to believe that. "I'm fine."

"I'll go grab Alfred anyway," Dick said, frowning. "He'll want to see you, you big lug, why didn't you go see him first?"

_Because I needed to see with my own eyes that you were alive._ Bruce thought. _Because I need to make sure Damian doesn't kill his brother by accident. Because I can't lose either of you._

"Damian, you go," he said, nodding at his son. The smaller boy moved silently for the stairs, watching him the entire time. _Good, his instincts aren't off._

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Dick asked, leaning against the computers. He crossed his arms, looking so _familiar_ for a moment that Bruce's throat burned. "You look like shit, you're obviously in pain, and you're hiding something."

"Your point?" Bruce asked, turning to the keyboard and swiping a hand across the keys. He entered a complex code, then let the camera scan his retina. "Alpha designator: omega omega, beta, theta. Two, zero, eight, eight, eight."

The wall next to the computer slid open, a sickly green glow emitting from the small space. Dick watched on with obvious worry as Bruce stood, moving towards the Kryptonite store. He only had a few minutes left before Damian was back, Alfred hot on his heels.

"My point is," Dick said, raising a finger. He cut off as Bruce grabbed the backup Kryptonite rings with some difficulty, confusion overshadowing his concern. "What the hell are you doing?"

Bruce put one ring on, biting down hard as the mineral dug into his skin instantly, intensifying the burn in his chest. His head spun, and he had to grab the chair for support. Dick was at his side instantly, a shoulder propped under his arm.

" _Fuck_ ," he said viciously, ripping the ring off. Dick took it from him, helping him back into the chair. His head slid into his hands.

"You're affected by it," Dick's voice said above him, cautious. "Did something...happen, in the other universe? Or am I going crazy?"

"I need you to make me a promise," Bruce said, looking up at the other man. Dick's gaze was steady, his earlier good humor gone. "When-if the time comes, when that needs to be used. It needs to be you. I can't do it anymore."

That stung to admit-more than stung. He'd always been the check on Superman, the one with a half-dozen contingencies and the materiel to back it up. If Superman went rogue-if Clark went rogue-he'd always had the ring in his belt, a just-in-case scenario planned for. And now…

"I…" Dick took a step closer, and with him, the ring. Bruce flinched. "Shit. It's _hurting_ you, isn't it?"

The other man put the ring back in the drawer, and with a quick keystroke, the space sealed shut. Bruce was breathing heavily by the end, pinned by Dick's watchful gaze.

"I'll do it," he said after a moment, looking him dead in the eyes. His jaw tightened. "But-soon-you better tell me what the _hell_ is going on. Promise me, Bruce."

"Agreed," he said, and not a second later, there were footsteps on the stairs. Dick shot him one last glance, and stepped back to an appropriate boundary.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said, looking him up and down disdainfully. Damian was at his elbow, peering at him curiously. "What on _earth_ are you wearing?"

He looked down, and realized that he still had on Kal-El's pants. The Kryptonian cloth had felt so smooth and natural against his skin, he'd barely even noticed the garment.

"Not up to date on your Kryptonian fashion, Alfred?"

The look he got in return was worth the jab. "I'm afraid you'll have to change before dinner, sir. Shall I draw a bath?"

Affection was shown in so many different ways. He cracked a smile at the butler. "Are you saying I stink, Alfred?"

"Not more than usual, sir," the butler replied, but his lips were twitching. "Good to have you home."

"Good to be home," Bruce said, and meant it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and SEX. Who knew what a lovely pairing they made?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break in updates there. I owe this chapter big time to Musicalgirl4474, who let me kvetch about it endlessly. 
> 
> Warnings for sexytimes down below...and angst. Always angst. Hope you enjoy!

_**Before** _

" _Smallville. I'm losing you here. What happened?"_

" _Just tired," he said, biting down on the bile that threatened to rise from his stomach. Touching her felt so wrong, suddenly, and he wanted to cry out. How could Lois be wrong? "I think I need sleep."_

" _No kidding," she said, letting him go with a quick tug on his hair. "Go crash. I'll be in soon."_

" _Yes, ma'am," he said, holding the smile until he was out of sight. When she left for the kitchen, he pressed himself to the bedroom wall, feeling another wave of dizziness pass over him._

You're still weak from the Kryptonite, _he told himself, heart racing._ That's all this is. The sooner you get over-whatever this thing is-the sooner it's gone. And maybe Bruce won't hate you forever.

_His heart refused to slow, and when Lois remarked on it later, when they were pressed against each other, he had no explanation to give._

* * *

" _Fuck," he said viciously, ripping the ring off. Dick took it from him, helping him back into the chair. His head slid into his hands._

" _You're affected by it," Dick's voice said above him, cautious. "Did something...happen, in the other universe? Or am I going crazy?"_

" _I need you to make me a promise," Bruce said, looking up at the other man. Dick's gaze was steady, his earlier good humor gone. "When-if the time comes, when that needs to be used. It needs to be you. I can't do it anymore."_

" _I…" Dick took a step closer, and with him, the ring. Bruce flinched. "Shit. It's_ hurting _you, isn't it?"_

_The other man put the ring back in the drawer, and with a quick keystroke, the space sealed shut. Bruce was breathing heavily by the end, pinned by Dick's watchful gaze._

" _I'll do it," he said after a moment, looking him dead in the eyes. His jaw tightened. "But-soon-you better tell me what the hell is going on. Promise me, Bruce."_

* * *

_**Now** _

Clark woke in Lois' arms, one of her legs thrown across his torso. Her hair brushed his cheek, making him wrinkle his nose. Usually, he would have leaned in, pressing his face to her neck as they woke together. Now, he pulled away. His skin ached where it touched her, an unpleasant sensation he couldn't seem to ignore.

The few hours of sleep he'd managed didn't seem to have been enough; his eyes felt gritty, regardless of how many times he rubbed them. His body was one large bruise, though he couldn't begin to figure out how that could even happen.

Lois didn't wake as he carefully extricated himself from the bed. The clock informed him that he was three hours too early for work, blinking slowly in the morning light. Perry would have his head when he turned up at the _Planet,_ but what was new about that?

He went through the motions of putting on a pot of coffee, feeling his chest ache a little as he began to fully wake. He'd ignored the bond between himself and Bruce as much as a he could without clawing his eyes out overnight; he'd limited himself to listening to the other man's heartbeat, falling asleep eventually to the steady thrum of blood, rushing through ventricles and chambers.

How could he face Bruce? How could he even look him in the eye and admit to what he'd done? He wasn't deluding himself any longer-he would have to own up to his sins eventually. He couldn't hide out with Lois and pretend things were exactly as they had been. Especially not with this bond now growing between them-Bruce would want it gone immediately, there was no doubt. The last thing Batman wanted was a loss of control, something tying himself to others when he didn't permit it.

As if the bond could sense his thoughts, a sharp pain suddenly flowed through it. Clark pressed a hand to his chest, wincing. He could feel the pull to Bruce's side like an ache, digging under his fingernails and skin. He nearly shattered the coffee pot as the pain sharpened, gritting his teeth.

_I'm going crazy,_ he thought as the sensation ebbed after a moment. _There's no way this is normal._

_Bruce isn't normal,_ his brain supplied, sounding a lot like Jor-El. Clark ignored that voice, discounting it immediately. When his comm began chirping a moment later, he nearly leapt on it in his haste.

"Superman."

"Kal," Diana's voice was warm, lined subtly with concern. "We need you for the debrief. We have it scheduled for this evening. Are you well enough to attend?"

_No, I'm not. I think I accidentally bonded myself to my best friend and now I can't stop thinking about him. Which would be fine...except every minute I'm away from him, I feel like dying-_

"Of course," he said immediately. He sounded rushed, even to his own ears. "I'm feeling much better. How is Bruce?"

"You haven't seen him?" Diana seemed surprised, and the guilt that dug at him was probably completely deserved. "I thought when you called you said-"

"He's fine," _as far as I can tell._ "I had to, uh, leave very suddenly. But he was fully healed when I did."

_Great, now she'll think you're avoiding him-which you are, by the way._

"I haven't spoken to him much," Diana replied, and if Clark were looking, he was sure he'd see her waving a hand in irritation. "He called the meeting. He wants a full debrief, just the founders."

_Will he tell them what_ he _did? What_ you _did? Does he even_ remember?

"Sounds good," Clark lied, pushing all of the fake cheer he could into his voice. "I'll see you tonight, Diana."

"Kal," there was a warning there that kept him from shutting off the comm. His finger hovered over the button, caught red-handed. "Is everything alright? You sound...strained."

"I'm fine," he said, wincing as the declaration came out as less than convincing. "Just tired. These past few weeks have been...hard."

It wasn't a lie, but the Amazon seemed to catch onto his point. He remembered their conversation with the lasso before Bruce's rescue vividly, unable to shake the memory from his conscious.

" _Kal. Why is Bruce so important to you?"_

" _Because I…" he swallowed, unable to resist the lasso. "Because I love him."_

_Diana dropped the rope in shock, the coils unwinding from him easily._

" _Oh Kal," she said, a soft hand touching his cheek. "I'm to sorry."_

"You should visit Bruce," Diana urged in his ear, forcing him from the memory. "I know his...loss...hit you the hardest. He'd be pleased to see you."

His lips twisted. "I wouldn't be so sure."

For a moment, he imagined Diana blinking at his sudden change in tone, her eyes narrowing. Her lips would be pursed, staring at the comm with a frown.

"You're worried he'd conflate you with the other universe's Kal-El."

Clark said nothing. His silence was damning in and of itself.

"You underestimate Bruce's intelligence," Diana said after a moment, her voice digging into his ear. "And you insult your own. I expect you at this meeting. We will talk afterwards."

She turned off her comm before he could reply, sending static across the line. Clark turned back to the coffee pot, blinking as the room spun a little.

He waved a hand in front of his face, frowning as it split into two. He tightened his grip on the coffee pot, willing his vision to settle. _It's nothing. You're imagining things, and it's only making things worse._

The coffee machine percolated, the sound irritating him beyond comprehension. He reached out a hand and shut it off, hissing under his breath.

_I'm sure Bruce is handling this way better than I am, that's for sure._

* * *

Dick entered the cave to the sound of grunts and muffled thuds.

He couldn't help the small leap in heart rate that familiar cadence caused. Sometimes he forgot the raw power Bruce had under his skin, so tightly restrained, only a brief glimpse of it allowed on the streets of Gotham, even then, carefully controlled.

Bruce's back was to him, his hands wrapped in tape as he pummeled the punching bag hanging from the far left corner. He wore nothing but a pair of dark shorts, his skin gleaming with sweat. Ever punch reverberated through the bag, the leather trembling as he dug fist after fist into the material, over and over again.

He frowned as Bruce landed a particularly nasty hit, watching in amazement as the bag nearly came off the hook. In all the years he'd seen Bruce's daily regimen, he'd barely managed to shift the bag more than a few inches. Yet Bruce seemed to be knocking it around with ease, a look of utter concentration on his face.

Dick waited for him to finish up, grabbing a towel from a nearby hook as he made his way over. When Bruce finally finished, chest heaving, he turned and took it with a curt nod.

"Rough night?"

"Couldn't sleep," Bruce grunted, tugging the towel across his face. His eyes were almost preternaturally bright, gleaming in the low light of the cave. "You need something?"

"Just checking up on you," Dick admitted, following him over to the chair. Bruce sat down, hands going to his keyboard immediately, pulling up the overnight logs with a keystroke. "That was...quite a workout. You always, uh, punch that hard?"

There was a pause as his adoptive father glanced at him, then back at the logs. His fingers trembled slightly against the keyboard, a detail Dick didn't miss.

"You know the answer to that question," Bruce went back to not looking at him. His mouth quirked, as if in doubt. After a moment of scanning the logs from 2 AM, he sighed, closing his eyes.

"...I was going easy."

Dick frowned, not understanding. "What?"

Bruce's eyes flew open. He stood, walking over to the abandoned punching bag. He didn't bother to wrap his hand this time.

"Watch."

With a single hit, the bag flew across the room, crashing into the far wall. Dick felt his jaw loosen, years of training the only thing keeping him from shouting in surprise.

"I ripped the other one open this morning," Bruce said irritably, walking around him on his way back to the computer. "I'm sure Alfred will have something to say about that."

"What happened in that other world?" Dick finally managed to get his lips moving again, but he was sure the word were rushed. "What did they _do_ to you?"

"Nothing I didn't deserve."

Dick stalked over to the chair, standing in front of the monitor so Bruce was forced to look at him. "Now, that's _bullshit_ if I've ever heard it."

"Maybe you haven't heard enough."

" _Bruce_."

The other man let out a sigh, turning from the screen. His face was inscrutable, as usual. "What do you want me to say?"

"That you're terrified?" Bruce snorted. "That you need help? Someone to talk to? Should I be calling Clark?"

Bruce's posture changed immediately, almost imperceptibly so, his face going carefully blank. _Red alert._ "Don't."

"You need to talk to him." Dick said, watching him carefully. He waved a hand. "Whatever's going on with the two of you-and I _know_ there's something, because he looked like he wanted to murder someone when he walked out of that portal-you need to talk about-"

"I killed someone."

"-it- _what_ ," Dick spluttered, cutting off. "Bruce...you…"

"In the other world," Bruce continued, utterly calm. Blue eyes met his, steady as ever. "I killed Kal-El to save Clark. I snapped his neck."

"Bruce, you couldn't have known-"

"No. I knew," his father sighed, turning away to the computer. He didn't touch the keyboard, staring at the blank screen. "Clark was dying... _I_ was dying. There was nothing else I could have done."

He sounded so rational. It made Dick want to throttle him.

"The only way Clark could save me after that…" he trailed off, something that had only happened a few times in Dick's life. "What he had to do, I'm not sure he can forgive me for. I'm not sure _I_ would forgive me."

"It can't have been that bad," Dick said, resting a hand on Bruce's shoulder. It said a lot about the other man's state of mind that he didn't shake it off. "Clark would do anything for you."

Bruce pressed a hand to his chest, shutting his eyes. So softly, Dick nearly didn't catch it, he whispered. "Isn't that the problem?"

Dick tugged on his shoulder, getting a surprised grunt as Bruce let himself be pulled to his feet.

"C'mon, old man, get up."

"What are you doing?" Bruce blinked as he was led over to the mat. "Richard-"

"If you've got super strength now," Dick said, kicking his shoes off and toeing onto the mat. "And you don't want to talk about it-" Bruce scrunched up his nose, answering that question. "-then we're sparring. I'm out of practice."

Bruce frowned, crossing his arms. "I'll hurt you."

"Sure," Dick said with a smile, dropping into his fighting stance, "You can try."

* * *

Diana looked up as J'onn joined her at the Founders' table. A mug of coffee slid her way, and she accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you."

"It was no inconvenience," the alien seated himself to her left, fixing her with a stare. "You seem pensive. Would you like to talk about it?"

Diana took a sip of her coffee, thinking it over. "I'm sure you already know."

"I do. But it's more polite to ask out loud."

"Bruce and Clark," she got a nod from J'onn and shook her head. "They're not talking."

"They're both dealing with tremendous amounts of trauma," J'onn said, tilting his head. "A trip to an alternate universe such as that one is never _not_ disturbing."

"Are they mad at each other?"

The alien's face was impassive. "Would that make this easier?"

"No. Damn it." Diana took another sip of the coffee, frowning. "I don't know what happened in the other world. I can guess, but I don't want to. They're both blaming themselves, though, I can just _tell_."

"Perhaps they will reconcile at tonight's meeting," the alien said diplomatically, taking a pull of his coffee after a moment. "It's not like Clark to brood."

"But it is like Bruce." Diana sighed. "Hera help us. Tonight will be miserable, I can just tell."

J'onn inclined his head. "Indeed."

* * *

The other Founders were already in the conference room when Bruce teleported up. The cowl felt strangely heavy today, his cape not the reassuring weight it had always been. Today, the fabric felt cloying, a half-step away from strangling him. Paired with the strange dizziness, he was hardly in shape to be doing much.

With a deep breath, he stepped out of the zeta tube. Hesitation was ridiculous. Seeing Clark was...unavoidable. He didn't know what he feared most-his friend's pity, or his disappointment. He'd get both in spades, undoubtedly, most likely with a touch of revulsion.

_His affection for you is genuine,_ Jor-El had told him, _Never doubt that._

If Bruce could manage a laugh right now, he would have been chuckling bitterly. _You must not know your son very well. In fact, you probably don't know him at all._

He didn't hesitate as he crossed the threshold of the conference room, cape sweeping behind him. Indecision would have been noticed, so he walked in as he usually would. Everyone looked up, including Clark.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and suddenly, the burning in his chest he'd been ignoring all day lessened. Suddenly, he could breathe again, a short respite before the distance between them grew yet again.

"Batman," Diana said, a notepad in front of her. "Thank you for coming. Are you well?"

Clark's gaze dropped, eyes flicking away. Bruce felt its loss like a knife between his ribs, fist clenching at his side. He took his seat across the long table, passing Oliver, Jordan, Shayera, Barry, and J'onn.

"I'm fine," he said, curt. "Can we begin?"

* * *

If he'd thought seeing Bruce would have done this to him, he would have stayed home. Would have abandoned the Justice League and flown far away until this _emotion_ couldn't reach him anymore. Would have gone back to Jor-El and begged him to end this, whatever this was.

It was the closest he'd been to his mate in days, yet the space between them could have been measured in miles. Bruce's cowl masked any and all emotion, not that he needed it; his summary was clinical at best, dry and devoid of any sort of personal input.

"I was taken to a windowless containment cell within the ship," Bruce began, after a quick summary of the attack on the watchtower. Clark forced himself to look at the man's hands, placed carefully on the polished table. "I was left unrestrained for a period of approximately ten earth hours."

Diana was taking down minutes, occasionally making a note as Bruce continued his testimony.

"My wrist was broken in two places," Bruce said, clinical, "I used a canister from my belt to brace it. The other universe's Superman came into the cell multiple times to speak with me."

"Did any of those conversations yield important information about this other universe?" Diana asked, looking up. Clark clenched his fists, dreading what he knew was coming.

The founders were silent, shocked beyond words as Batman's tale unfolded.

"Yes and no," Bruce said, steepling his hands under his chin.

He looked so normal, so passive, that Clark wanted to scream. How could he be so calm about this? He was torn between wanting to shake the other man, and restraining himself-not to touch, to reach out and take Bruce far away from all of this. He'd already taken too much-that was a set of instincts he would ignore, no matter the cost.

"He appeared to be running a regime with that world's Wonder Woman. From what I could tell, my double was already dead, as were...others."

The room, if it had been quiet before, fell deathly silent. There was no mistaking that careful sidestep of phrasing. Clark watched as Hal ducked his head, Ollie paling slightly beneath his hood.

"The other Superman attempted to recruit me for tactical decisions in his regime multiple times," Bruce continued, his voice filling the room with little effort. "When I didn't comply, he punished me. I sustained multiple broken ribs on one occasion, as well as a mild concussion."

Clark felt rather than saw the conference table crack beneath his hand. The tabletop splintered into dust as he removed his fingers, a set of gouges left in the wood. All eyes turned to him, alarmed by the noise.

Even Bruce seemed phased, pausing briefly in his testimony. Their eyes met for the second time, a quick flash of blue that left him shivering. He exhaled through his nose, struggling to hold onto a facade of calm. "Please continue, Batman."

"I fought once more with Kal-El in the cell," Bruce's eyes flicked towards him again, hesitant, enough to sting and soothe in one moment. "I provoked him. This time, my injuries were more catastrophic. I suffered kidney damage, a fractured pelvis, numerous broken ribs, and bilateral collapse of the lungs."

" _How_?" Ollie choked out, his hand clenching into a fist. He voiced what Clark didn't dare say, outraged. Bruce refused to look at the fellow vigilante. "How are you even _alive,_ Bruce?"

"According to the ship's logs, my heart stopped three times." the billionaire said, glaring down the table like he dared anyone to challenge him. Diana had stopped taking notes, staring at him openly. "The other Superman realized his mistake-"

"Mistake?"

Bruce cut off, staring at him. It took a moment for reality to sink in; Clark had just spoken, his voice harsh and unfamiliar. He'd practically growled the word at the other man.

Anger was pounding through his veins; anger directed towards himself, this other Kal-El-but mostly himself. He didn't trust himself to speak further, let alone move. The bond between him and Bruce thrummed, but with what emotion, he couldn't tell.

"The other Superman realized the extent of my injuries," Bruce revised carefully, tilting his head. "And took me to the healing chamber. Using Kryptonian technology, he altered my genetic code and healed my injuries."

"Altered your genetic code," Hal repeated, looking skeptical. For him, however, the outburst was close to respectful. "Do you mean you're part Kryptonian now?"

Bruce nodded. "You can confirm with the Fortress, and with Superman."

All eyes turned to him. Clark had to bite down on his tongue, hard, to keep from saying something he shouldn't. To keep from looking at Bruce again.

"He's correct. I detect approximately one-fifth Kryptonian DNA in his cells."

Everyone turned back to Bruce, who was waiting patiently. With a nod from Diana, he continued.

"I realized, after a brief interaction with Kal-El," Clark frowned as he detected a strange uptick in Bruce's heart rate. "My genetic status gave me partial authorization over the ship's security measures. This meant access to the Kryptonite rings Kal-El had taken from me, and a possible escape route."

On the outside, Bruce remained as impassive as he had been for the past half hour. Clark watched as the man's heart refused to slow, however, paired with a strange emotion across their bond. Regret? Guilt?

Bruce's eyes caught his, sharp, and he quickly backed down, cutting himself off from the bond as completely as he could manage. It hadn't even been conscious, really-his thoughts had wandered towards Bruce without any help at all.

"Why not wait for a rescue attempt from the Justice League?" Diana asked, getting a nod from Oliver. "Why try such a risky plan when you knew there could be unintentional effects from the rings?"

"There were certain...factors that pushed me to move quickly." Clark blinked as Bruce's pulse jumped again, anger burning through him. "I couldn't stay and wait for a rescue attempt."

His tone left little room for argument. Diana nodded, letting it pass, though Clark could tell she wanted to argue the point further.

"I managed to obtain security clearance and entered the room where my rings were being kept," Bruce folded his hands in front of him. "Kal-El found me. We fought, and then Cl-" His voice cracked slightly, a touch below human perception. Clark flinched. "-Superman assisted me in neutralizing Kal-El. The rest, you already know."

_Neutralizing._ What an awful, bland word. Clark felt bile rise in the back of his throat and choked it down. How could Bruce summarize everything he'd been through like it was just another crime report?

His anger must have been enough to leak over the bond, because Bruce sent him a sharp glance, another warning. Clark bit down and tasted blood.

"Thank you for sharing that with us," Diana said, turning to J'onn. "I know we have more to add to the debrief, but I suggest, in the light of today's events, we leave that for next week."

The remaining founders stood, sending a respectful nod or glance Bruce's way. Clark got more than a few stares as they began to leave the room, congregating in pairs, Shayera patting Hal's shoulder, Ollie tugging on Flash's uniform with stilted affection.

Clark couldn't move. Could barely breathe. Bruce was still seated, all the way across the table, his face carefully blank. Could he even feel what was going on between them? What Clark was feeling in every cell within his body?

As the founders left, one by one, Bruce let out an imperceptible breath. With steady hands, he reached up and removed the cowl, relaxing as the mask was pulled from his skin. Clark watched, transfixed.

"Kal."

Clark flinched as Diana's hand fell on his shoulder, shaken from his reverie. She leaned in, her hair brushing his cheek.

"Your eyes…"

He closed them, realizing only then the heat behind his eyelids. He tried to calm himself down, and realized with a small amount of panic that he could not.

"Talk to him," Diana whispered. With a tap on his shoulder, she was gone.

Clark opened his eyes to find Bruce still seated. His hair was mussed from the cowl; dark circles ringed his eyes. The room was silent; the tension within it indescribable.

_Bruce…_

* * *

He was exhausted from his testimony, something that had never happened to him before, not even after Jason. Suddenly, it was just him and Clark in a room together. Try as he might, he couldn't calm his heart, couldn't stop the slight hitch in his breathing as Clark's gaze connected with his.

Feeling Clark's anger throughout the meeting had been beyond painful. How disappointed he was seemed clear; He'd acted impulsively in the other world, and his actions had only borne strife. Escaping early-killing Kal-El-it had all been imperative at the time, but looking back, he wasn't so sure.

He would've paid a handsome amount of his fortune to read Clark's mind in that moment. His jaw was clenched, a faint pinprick of red visible in both eyes. He remained seated, even after the other members had left.

"Bruce."

He grit his teeth and met Clark's eyes, rebelling against the wave of anger he felt down the bond tying them together. "You obviously have something to say to me."

The Kryptonian tilted his head, looking so much like Kal-El for a moment that Bruce's stomach flipped. "Don't you dare talk to me like that."

"Like what?" Suddenly, it was beyond easy to stand. Anger was a familiar liferaft, and he clung to it. He pushed himself up from the chair, stalking across the room. "Like this?"

"Like _him_." Clark hissed, standing to meet his challenge. His eyes were red again, a warning. "I would-"

Bruce shook his head as the Kryptonian choked on whatever he was going to say. He looked damn near nauseous the closer Bruce got, and that stung more than it should have. _Is he really that repulsed by what he did? What we did? What we...are?_

"You're angry with me." Bruce stated, watching as Clark's jaw clenched. "Fine. You deserve to be."

" _Deserve_ -" Clark took a step back, incredulous. "Bruce. The way you were talking about yourself. Your testimony. It couldn't be further from the truth."

A bitter sound was torn from his throat. "You wanted me to tell the truth? To everyone?"

"Yes!" Clark slammed a hand down on the table. The legs buckled under the force of the hit, crashing to the floor. "I did. I do."

"You wanted me to tell them how I fucked Kal-El-" Clark made a choked noise, pain flitting across his face, "-how I used him to escape. How he beat the shit out of me anyway, again and again, and how I killed him with my bare hands. How I snapped his neck like a toothpick-"

" _Enough_." Clark growled, stepping towards him. "Damn you, that's _enough_ , Bruce!"

His body seemed to sing with pleasure as Clark stood closer. Even angry, he yearned to press his face into Clark's neck and just _breathe,_ surrounded completely. Safe.

"I understand that this-this situation-is less than ideal," Bruce said after a moment, chest heaving, though he hadn't been the one shouting. "I understand if you don't want to see me. I-I am grateful for what you did. It came at great personal cost to you, and I-I'm-We can work something out. I can schedule-"

Without looking, Clark picked up the the table's remnants and threw them across the room. The hardwood slammed into the conference room divider with a booming thud, falling to the ground a half second later. Suddenly Clark's hands were at his shoulders, pressing him against the wall.

"You think this is your fault," Clark said in disbelief, an inch from his face. " _Bruce._ Jesus _Christ_."

"You didn't have to save me." he said, but his protests sounded weak, even to his ears. Clark growled again, the sound sending shivers down his spine. "What you did-"

"I should be the one apologizing- _christ,_ Bruce, I practically raped you!"

Bruce froze, staring at him. Clark's eyes weren't red, but he could tell the other man was close to tears. How had he not noticed?

"I remember enough." Bruce said softly. It was as close to the truth as he could get-foggy memories of pleasure, of worried hands at his face. "You asked me; I said yes."

"You didn't have enough mental capability to even think about consenting!" Clark leaned in, his fingers digging into his shoulders. "What I did was unforgivable."

"Now you're insulting my mental faculties?" Bruce asked, getting a vicious glare in return. He stared back, refusing to crack. "You saved my life. How could that be unforgivable?"

The other man didn't relax his hold, and Bruce couldn't lie-the contact was heavenly. They were both touch-starved, it seemed; he couldn't pull away, and Clark couldn't seem to, either. "Not when we're tied together like this. Do you understand what this even _means_?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Your father explained it to me, yes."

"I took advantage of you," Clark ignored his eye roll. "I should be apologizing-I should be _begging_ you for forgiveness."

He couldn't help the choked laugh that escaped, closing his eyes. For a second, he just let Clark press him against the wall, revelling in the feel of it.

"How was I taken advantage," he let his eyes fall open, and found Clark's burning. "when it was everything I ever wanted?"

The silence in the room seemed to stretch and grow, enveloping them both. Stars were born and burned away in the moment it took Clark to process this, eyes wide.

He leaned in, heart aching, as the Kryptonian remained frozen.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in Clark's ear, "I'm sorry it had to happen like this."

Bruce pulled away, numb. The Kryptonian's arms fell to his sides as he extricated himself from the wall, empty.

He was almost to the door when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He was spun around ungracefully, tugged into Clark's arms.

"You don't get to run away from me," the Kryptonian pushed him against the wall, his voice dropping an octave. Bruce almost groaned out loud at the sound of it. "Not again. Not again, Bruce. Do you understand?"

Bruce opened his mouth to protest when Clark's lips pressed suddenly, insistently against his. He moaned as the Kryptonian deepened the kiss, feeling the ache in his chest turn into pure pleasure, radiating through every vein in his body. He clawed at Clark's back, tugging him closer desperately. _Please, please-_

_God,_ but Clark could kiss-it didn't even really feel like Clark anymore, not in his head, or in his hands. This was the first time he'd truly seen Kal-El-the possessive grip across his ass, the bruising kisses as he was pressed against the wall. The bond between them was almost delirious with pleasure, blurring their surroundings until it was just the two of them, panting, skin against skin.

His armor was ripped off like it was tissue paper, and he couldn't even find it in himself to protest. Clark's suit was gone a moment later, and then his bare chest was under Bruce's hands, corded muscle and smooth skin he wanted to sink his teeth into. He reached a hand down the front of his pants, grabbing the Kryptonian's erection and squeezing.

" _Bruce_ ," Kal groaned against his neck, shuddering. A moment later, he returned the favor. Bruce bit down on a gasp as he was jerked out of his underwear, lust rushing through him.

His thighs ached as Kal ran a hand between them, blistering hot against his skin. " _Bruce,_ Jesus-"

Something slick was worked between his legs, the details fading away as Kal's fingers entered him, slowly at first, then faster. He tilted his hips, still kissing, begging for more. Sex had never felt this good before. Sex had never felt this good in his _life_.

He had a half-memory from his time under the sun lamps, a moment of pure pleasure as Clark had entered him for the first time.

As Kal pushed in now, that moment seemed so miniscule in comparison. He had never felt this full, this complete in his life. Pleasure sang through every vein in his body, chills running up and down his spine, and Kal hadn't even begun to move yet.

On cue, the Kryptonian grabbed his ass and pushed him up against the wall, lifting him a little off the floor. He began to thrust up and into him, and Bruce was painfully aware of how close he was already.

"Fuck. _Fuck,_ don't you dare _stop_ -"

Kal pressed his lips to Bruce's neck, biting down possessively. He was lost in a sea of desire, barely able to form coherent thoughts as the pressure behind his spine grew, curling into waves of pleasure that grew and grew. Soon all he could do was moan, breathing quickly, fisting a hand in Kal's hair.

They changed positions, Kal shifting him so he was fucking him flat against the wall, the plaster creaking as it threatened to give way.

Kal was panting against his neck, breathy little moans that Bruce couldn't get enough of. They were both so close-so close-he clenched his eyes shut as white-hot pleasure raced through him, tightening around Kal-El, a shout ripped from his lips.

He was vaguely aware of the other man coming inside him, deliciously high on the most intense orgasm of his life. As they came down together, they were both breathing heavily, sweaty, pressed against each other.

When Bruce could see again, he gently slid off of Clark's hips. The Kryptonian made a low whining sound, wrapping his arms around Bruce's torso. With a sigh, he let himself be held, revelling in the peace and calm that was flowing across the bond.

"That was…" Bruce was utterly fascinated by how _Clark_ seemed to flow back into Kal-El's body, watching it happen before his very eyes. "Bruce…"

"You ruined my armor," Bruce said, narrowing his eyes at the Kevlar-shaped lump on the conference room floor. "You _ripped_ it off. You actually did that."

Clark grabbed his face, forcing him to look up. He was smiling, the most relaxed Bruce had seen him in months. Even his skin looked healthier, a soft glow emanating from behind it. "Worth it."

"You're a sap," Bruce swatted at him, getting a hair-tousle for his trouble. "When the endorphins wear off, I'm giving you a piece of my mind."

Clark tugged him closer, and Bruce let him, pressing his face into his neck. The contact seemed even sweeter now, and for the moment, he couldn't even _imagine_ being anywhere else. "We have a lot to talk about...it can wait for later, though."

"Like Lois?"

The feeling of happiness across the bond cut off so quickly, it almost left him with whiplash. Clark's face darkened.

"Bruce-"

He pushed himself away from the Kryptonian, ignoring the soft pain in his chest as he stepped backwards. Something slipped across the bond, almost cut off, but it was too late. "You-you love her, don't you?"

Clark's silence was all the answer he needed. Bruce dressed quickly in his undersuit, salvaging what armor he could. His mood turned sour instantly, nausea trickling through him.

"I knew this-I don't know why I let myself think…"

"Bruce-"

He dodged Clark's outstretched hand, imagining the ring that was supposed to be there in a few months' time. "You're _engaged_. This is-I can't even begin to describe how wrong this is-"

Clark tried to reach for him one last time. Bruce pushed his hand away, humiliation burning in his chest.

"Bruce-"

"Don't touch me," Bruce said, stalking towards the door with the remains of his dignity. Clark watched on, stricken. "Don't you ever touch me again, do you understand?"

His heart felt like it would burst when he reached the doorway. He set his teeth and stepped over it anyway, hearing Clark gasp behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lil sexy interlude cause the author's having a bad month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a little short and content-light. I figured it was better to publish what I had instead of sitting on it. Hope you enjoy!

_**Before** _

_Clark tugged him closer, and Bruce let him, pressing his face into his neck. The contact seemed even sweeter now, and for the moment, he couldn't even imagine being anywhere else. "We have a lot to talk about...it can wait for later, though."_

_"Like Lois?"_

_The feeling of happiness across the bond cut off so quickly, it almost left_

_him with whiplash. Clark's face darkened._

_"Bruce-"_

_He pushed himself away from the Kryptonian, ignoring the soft pain in his chest as he stepped backwards. Something slipped across the bond, almost cut off, but it was too late._

_"You-you love her, don't you?"_

_Clark's silence was all the answer he needed. Bruce dressed quickly in his undersuit, salvaging what armor he could. His mood turned sour instantly, nausea trickling through him._

_"I knew this-I don't know why I let myself think…"_

_"Bruce-"_

_He dodged Clark's outstretched hand, imagining the ring that was supposed to be there in a few months' time. "You're engaged. This is-I can't even begin to describe how wrong this is-"_

_Clark tried to reach for him one last time. Bruce pushed his hand away, humiliation burning in his chest._

_"Bruce-"_

_"Don't touch me," Bruce said, stalking towards the door with the remains of his dignity. Clark watched on, stricken. "Don't you ever touch me again, do you understand?"_

_His heart felt like it would burst when he reached the doorway. He set his teeth and stepped over it anyway, hearing Clark gasp behind him._

* * *

_**Now** _

Clark had to hold himself back from slamming his apartment's door behind him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he stepped over the threshold. Somewhere in the kitchen, Lois had the news on. Lester Holt's voice trickled down the hallway, doing little to help his headache.

" _-in other news, evidence of collusion in the President's campaign had led to repeated calls for an independent investigation-"_

"Clark,"

Lois greeted him with a smile, turning in her chair. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his button-downs, her hair still wet from the shower. She looked gorgeous...so beautiful, it made him bite down on his lip to keep the nausea at bay. What was he doing? What the _hell_ was he doing?

"You're home late. Perry said you were out on assignment?"

"Y-yeah," he replied, inching towards her. His chest was burning underneath his shirt, but he ignored it. With some effort, he put his arms around her. She smiled and leaned back into his hold. "How was, uh, your day?"

He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling with a small amount of panic. Every time he'd come home like this-lost, broken, drifting-she had been the one to pull him back. To anchor him. Why wasn't it working?

"I interviewed Senator Chambers about that China thing again," she said, waving a hand. Clark's stomach plummeted as he saw the engagement ring on her finger, the stone catching the light briefly. "He wouldn't cough up any details, but his assistant was a little more forthcoming. So I-"

She cut off, frowning at him, and he realized he'd been staring at her hand for longer than was acceptable. Bruce's words were echoing in his ears, the bond between them as close to smothered as it could get without disappearing completely. And still-

"Clark?"

He released her, looking away. He flinched when her fingers brushed his cheek, the skin there stinging.

"Something's wrong," Lois said softly, concerned. Her breath brushed his cheek. "Tell me. Something's bothering you."

_I fucked Bruce, even though I'm engaged and he's my best friend. Now I can't stop thinking about him. I can't think about anything except him, every minute, and my skin is burning and my bones are aching just being away from him. He doesn't want me. I can't focus. And now I can't even-_

"I-" he cleared his throat, head dropping. "I fucked up, Lo. I really fucked up."

This time, when her hands brushed his jaw, he didn't even hide his flinch. Lois' eyes were wide when he looked up, cataloguing every detail.

_You and Bruce would get along so well…_ he thought distantly. _You both see too much, right away, every time._

"You cheated," she surmised, glancing at her ring. Clark felt his face burn with shame, and couldn't answer. Her lips twisted. "Clark…"

He couldn't bear to watch her cry. With some effort, he grabbed her hands and pulled her close, throat aching.

"It was...Batman...I-there wasn't a choice," Clark forced out, "He would've died. I had to-you don't deserve this, but I-"

He trailed off, blinking away tears before they could fall. His throat ached, and he forced himself to swallow.

"Lois-"

"Shhh," she said, stroking his shoulder. "Just...breathe, okay? Breathe, Clark."

For a moment it was just the two of them in the kitchen, the sounds of hitched breaths overruling everything else. His heart was racing, and the burn he could feel in his chest sharpened, digging at his heart.

"Clark-God, I-I don't wanna say I'm not mad, but…" Lois choked on a sob, swallowing the noise. Her hand grasped his. "I-are we going to be okay? Are _you_ going to be okay?"

Suddenly, in that moment, holding his fiancee in his arms, he _hated_ Bruce. Hated Batman, Superman, and everything they stood for. Hated that the circumstances and forces at work were larger and more powerful than he could ever be, regardless of his own strength.

"I'm so sorry, Lo," he whispered, hands tightening around her waist. "I…"

There were no words-she had been right. Bruce had been right. What they had done-what he had done-was unforgivable. Reprehensible. Awful.

He held her as she finally broke down, or as much as Lois Lane allowed herself to-shuddering, silent sobs that brought tears to Clark's eyes as well. He loved her-he'd loved her. Still loved her?

Finally, finally, when his chest ached from holding her for so long, she stood. Straightened her clothes. Brushed her hair back from her face.

"I...need time..." she said, a little hoarse. "I-Clark-I-"

She shook her head, biting off whatever she'd meant to say. Clark watched her leave the kitchen, one hand outstretched, falling to his side.

_Don't you touch me again,_ Bruce had said, but now it was Lois' face superimposed in his memories, Lois' hands shoving him away, _Don't you ever touch me again._

* * *

Bruce had mastered the art of ignoring his body decades ago. The Kryptonian bond digging at his chest was more than a minor irritation, but it was far below the pain of a bullet wound or worse; even if, at times, he felt so breathless, so dizzy, so nauseous he couldn't move, it didn't distract him. Couldn't distract him.

Tonight, clothed in Armani, a flute of champagne in one hand, the bond was hidden beneath layers of silk and hours of meditation. He could barely feel Clark's presence anymore; the stubborn burn under his sternum was the only reminder that anything was different.

Dick was across the ballroom, charming a pair of society dames over their canapes. Damian had refused to go to the charity dinner, not that Bruce had expected that tendency to change. He'd been left with Alfred under strict instructions to finish his homework an hour ago.

Bruce Wayne had just finished his third 'business' talk of the night, slapping backs and reassuring board members, spouting off stocks until even the Wall Street crowd could barely keep up. The show had been bearable, perhaps less so than usual; donations and stock options were worth their weight in gold these days, and Bruce Wayne was richer than any many should ever deserve to be. Suddenly, after a whirlwind tour to another dimension, money didn't seem as important. Nothing truly did.

It was the first quiet moment of the night, and he allowed himself a brief respite on the hotel's patio. It took minimal effort to duck into the shadows, sliding out onto the balcony. Gotham stretched out below, far from a sleepy city.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the champagne over the edge, loosening his tie with the other hand. The room had been stifling, and the cool wind flowing between the skyscrapers was more than welcome across his face.

His thoughts drifted towards Clark without any conscious prodding, and he wrenched them back just as quickly. His heart ached suddenly, and he could feel Clark's grief under his skin, tearing at his carefully-constructed defenses like they were nothing but tissue paper.

He gasped and grabbed onto the balcony, knuckles turning white. Tears burned at his eyes, the intensity of Clark's emotions overruling all of his. Disgust, shame, love, and...anger? _Lois Lane,_ his heart told him. _This is what Lois feels like to him._

_Of course he would be mad at you,_ a voice whispered in his ear, _you took Lois from him. You_ made _him cheat. That's what this is all about anyway. Isn't it?_

"Clark can do what he wants," Bruce told Gotham's skyline, twirling his empty champagne glass with a little more force than necessary. The flute trembled under his fingers. "He's free now, isn't he?"

The sudden ache in his chest seemed to belie that. He pressed his fingers between the open collar briefly, feeling the burn of his skin against his fingertips. Clark's love, his anger, his guilt had done more than what forty glasses of champagne could have managed; a heady rush straight to his bloodstream, cracking his mask, fracturing it into a million pieces, waiting for a gentle tap…

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce looked up, nearly dropping the glass. A familiar-looking man stood at the doorway.

"I-yes?"

The man smiled, taking a step forward. His eyes were stunningly blue in the low light, framed by a brilliant smile. "Mr. Wayne. We spoke earlier, with Holders and Associates?"

"Ah, of course," Bruce waved his free hand, turning back to the skyline. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth as the other man joined him at the balcony, letting his eyes slide over the unbuttoned collar, the soft skin at his jaw-the blue eyes. He tilted his head, playing coy. "Bored already, Mr...?"

"Culliane, sir. Michael Culliane." The younger man returned his gaze, looking him up and down just as brazenly. He was taller than him ( _yes, just a little, wasn't he?_ ), probably almost a decade younger. "I can't say I complain, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce, please," he replied, shoving all thoughts of _Clark_ out of his mind. A faint smile slid across his lips. He leaned against the railing a little, watching as Michael's eyes caught on his hips, his pupils dilating ever so slightly. "Unless you'd like to keep talking business?"

An answering smile found its way to him in the darkness. Bruce felt his breath hitch, oh so briefly, and smiled back.

* * *

Clark woke on the couch, half-convinced he was on _fire._

The apartment was silent around him, the only sound the ticking of Lois' clock on the shelf. He kicked off the blanket he'd grabbed earlier, swearing as he seemed to grow hotter by the second. _What the fuck..._

He could feel Bruce's mind against his like a brand. The second he let himself reach out towards the bond, he was almost overwhelmed by the emotions pouring down it.

Bruce was-Bruce was having sex. No, scratch that-Bruce was being _fucked._ Pressed against a-a bathroom wall? He could almost make it out-could almost feel the linoleum under his fingers, the hands at his waist.

" _No_ ," he hissed, before he could stop himself, jealousy shooting through him. He was two steps to the window before he remembered Bruce's words-his warning-and faltered.

_He doesn't want you, remember?_

Some fucking payback this was. He felt his eyes burn in rage, biting down hard to keep from growling. His feet lifted off the ground, his entire body singing with jealousy, urging him to fly to his mate-

Clark grit his teeth as Bruce's pleasure began to peak, feeling himself growing hard. So hard. So fucking tense-

_No, I'm not-that would be_ so _wrong-_

A phantom hand brushed past his neck, scratching at his back, and he let out a groan before he could stop himself. With shaking hands that didn't feel like his own, he sank back onto the couch, reaching into his sweatpants.

_Bruce, trembling underneath him, pressed up against the stall, shuddering with the effort to stay quiet. So fucking beautiful, taking every inch of him, rocking his hips back so good, the two of them moving in perfect tandem-_

Clark bit his lip, speeding up his strokes as Bruce's mind became increasingly more and more incoherent, something close to pure endorphins flooding down the bond, like touching a live wire over and over again. He swore he could hear Bruce's gasps near his ear, forced out with every thrust-

_-and then Bruce was coming, head thrown back, clenched down on him-_

He felt himself come a half-second later, a blistering moment of pleasure-pain. He came back to himself, heaving, still thrumming with jealousy.

The apartment was exactly as he'd left it, Bruce's presence slipping from his mind, leaving like it'd never been there in the first place. _Bruce-_

Clark bit down to keep from screaming, so angry, so _furious_ in that moment that it was all he could do to keep from tearing the apartment to pieces. Bruce was _his_ , and whatever society whore he'd allowed to-to-

_What the hell is wrong with you?_ He asked himself, chest heaving. He wasn't the jealous type-never had been, even with Lois.

He was still engaged, at least at the moment. Bruce's personal life was exactly that-personal. _His_. Whoever he wanted to fuck-that was his decision. They'd-they'd just have to have a discussion about boundaries, one of these days. Put some limits on when and where...

Clark shut his eyes before they could burn again, pushing away all thoughts of Bruce, close to drowning in his jealousy. He couldn't give into this. Couldn't let himself get one _inch_ closer Kal-El, or everyone would suffer.

He grabbed the blanket and curled back up on the couch, trying to pretend he wouldn't spend the rest of the night tossing and turning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for potential dub-con, angst, and some vaguely R-rated material...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Here's a big one for you. Musicgirl4474, you know where to stop reading...  
> Hope you enjoy!

_**Before** _

_Bruce, trembling underneath him, pressed up against the stall, shuddering with the effort to stay quiet. So fucking beautiful, taking every inch of him, rocking his hips back so good, the two of them moving in perfect tandem-_

Clark bit his lip, speeding up his strokes as Bruce's mind became increasingly more and more incoherent, something close to pure endorphins flooding down the bond, like touching a live wire over and over again. He swore he could hear Bruce's gasps near his ear, forced out with every thrust-

_-and then Bruce was coming, head thrown back, clenched down on him-_

He felt himself come a half-second later, a blistering moment of pleasure-pain. He came back to himself, heaving, still thrumming with jealousy.

The apartment was exactly as he'd left it, Bruce's presence slipping from his mind, leaving like it'd never been there in the first place. _Bruce-_

Clark bit down to keep from screaming, so angry, so furious in that moment that it was all he could do to keep from tearing the apartment to pieces. Bruce was _his_ , and whatever society whore he'd allowed to-to-

_What the hell is wrong with you?_ he asked himself, chest heaving. He wasn't the jealous type-never had been, even with Lois.

He was still engaged, at least at the moment. Bruce's personal life was exactly that-personal. His. Whoever he wanted to fuck-that was his decision. They'd-they'd just have to have a discussion about boundaries, one of these days. Put some limits on when and where…

Clark shut his eyes before they could burn again, pushing away all thoughts of Bruce, close to drowning in his jealousy. He couldn't give into this. Couldn't let himself get one inch closer Kal-El, or everyone would suffer.

He grabbed the blanket and curled back up on the couch, trying to pretend he wouldn't spend the rest of the night tossing and turning.

* * *

_**Now** _

Bruce gagged one last time, leaning over the toilet as a final wave of nausea overtook him. He heaved, grimacing at the burn in his throat.

"I'm afraid you're starting to turn green, Master Wayne," Alfred commented from the doorway. "Are you sure it isn't morning sickness?"

Bruce ignored him, wiping his mouth and flushing. For a moment, he remained kneeling, pressing his face to the cool linoleum. His hair was matted against his forehead, and he pushed it back with a trembling hand.

"You're hilarious, Alfred," he said, wincing as another cramp worked its way through his abdomen. "I--ghh--think I would have noticed ovaries by now...number of times you've...X-rayed me…"

He cut off as his stomach rebelled again, pressing his lips shut and willing his body into submission. His skin was oscillating between burning hot and so cold he couldn't help but shiver. He swore he could feel something pressed against him, the sensation of ghostly hands brushing against his throat, leaving him even more dazed.

Alfred had thrown a blanket around his shoulders an hour prior, but he'd shoved it off a few minutes ago. His entire body ached. Even a run-in with malaria hadn't knocked him down this viciously. Everything _hurt,_ from the tips of his fingers, to his hair.

"That's six hours," Alfred said, glancing at his watch. The Batcave was silent behind him; the computer bay had cycled off after nearly half a day of disuse. "Even back in college, this would have been a record for you."

"I told you, I wasn't drunk," Bruce cut off a groan, tightening his hold on the toilet's rim. The porcelain creaked under his fingers, drawing a quirked eyebrow from Alfred. "This is...something else."

_-hands on his hips, the press of teeth against his neck as he was flung against the stall door, a burning in his chest he didn't want to name, until just a few moments later, high on the tipping point of orgasm, he could just make out Clark's voice, an outraged groan torn from his lips as he was dragged off the edge, whether he wanted to or not-_

"Lord willing," Alfred inclined his head slightly, folding his arms. He managed to strike the fine balance between nonchalant and caring, as usual. "It'll run its course soon. You have a rather concerned party waiting upstairs. I doubt I could dissuade him for another hour."

_Damian._ Bruce grit his teeth, pushing himself to his feet. He was hit instantly with a wave of dizziness, accepting Alfred's offered arm as the small bathroom spun. "I'm fine. He doesn't need to worry."

"His concern is with what ails you," Alfred said shrewdly, directing him to his chair by the monitors. Bruce sat down embarrassingly quickly, relieved. "And, frankly, mine is as well."

"Noted," Bruce said, ignoring his reflection as he powered up the monitor, praying Alfred wouldn't remark on it further. "Send him down. I'll alleviate his….concerns. Show him I'm fine."

Bruce could see the doubtful expression on Alfred's face without turning around. Nevertheless, footsteps soon sounded on the Cave stairs. Bruce quickly opened surveillance files from the previous night, gritting his teeth as he saw Dick's notes on a few recordings. _Tough luck. You decided getting laid was more important than patrol._

"Father?"

"Damian," Bruce spared him a quick glance, nodding his head. He could feel the child's eyes on him, praying he wouldn't remark on his pallor. He decided a frontal assault had better potential than obfuscation at this point. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"

"It's a _Sunday_ , father," Damian rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. Bruce resisted the urge to smile as the eleven year-old leaned closer anyway. "Pennyworth tells me you have been... _ill_."

"Alfred has a habit of worrying too much," Bruce said, opening another video file, skimming Dick's notes. Damian _harrumphed._ He turned to his son, lips twitching. "Don't think this'll make me forget about your sparring regimen today. I might be feeling a little under the weather...but that doesn't mean you're off the hook."

Damian met his gaze head-on, looking so stubbornly like Talia for a moment, his heart ached. Another wave of nausea overtook him, and he pressed a hand to his mouth. He could actually _feel_ the blood drain from his face this time.

"Father!"

Bruce put his head in his hands, breathing in slowly as his stomach began to cramp again. Damian hovered uncertainly by his shoulder. A moment later, his recycling bin was placed between his knees.

"Thank you," he said when he could breathe again, clenching his fists as his hands began to tremble. Damian opened his mouth to protest, but he cut him off. "I'm _fine_ , Damian. Must have been something I...ate."

"Pennyworth doesn't seem to think so--"

"Look," Bruce said, closing his eyes, a faint smile across his lips. "If it makes you feel better, I'll go lay down for a few hours before our lesson, alright?"

Damian was staring at him like he was some sort of alien life form. _He's not that far off,_ Bruce thought bitterly. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Father?"

"Funny," Bruce said, standing with some difficulty. "For that, you can go through your Tai Chi poses for an extra hour."

"Wha-- _what_!"

Bruce bit down on a snicker as he made his way up the stairs. Each step grew a little more difficult as he ascended, but he ignored the strain. He could almost imagine Clark shaking his head, disapproval written clearly across his face.

_Bruce, what the hell are you doing?_

* * *

Hal took a sip from his coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue. He forced himself to drink again anyway, bemoaning the early hour internally. The main floor was completely empty, not unusual for most mornings. He made his way slowly across the balcony, glancing into the Watchtower practice room. _Maybe you can get a few hours of target practice in..._

He leaned against the railing, frowning as his eye caught on the room's only occupant.

Superman ducked hologram after hologram, slamming a fist into one of the robots with a roar. The hologram--a duplicate from one of Lex's past invasion attempts--shattered, shards of light scattering across the practice room. Superman hit a button, regenerating the army for another round.

"How long has he been in there?" Barry asked, appearing at his side. He handed Hal half a donut, munching on the other half at full-speed. He took it with a small salute.

"Dunno. Just got here."

"I heard he's been here all night," Stewart said next to Hal's ear, startling him. He covered up his shock with a sip of coffee, turning to the other Lantern. "Diana said he's been taking out LexCorp bots since midnight."

"What are we, some kind of gossip club?" Hal admonished, looking around at the sudden crowd. Stewart was the only one with the grace to look embarrassed. "Well? Anyone have details? As long as we're all here, folks…"

"I heard he and Bats are fighting," Oliver said, entering the balcony, bow in hand. His fingers were trembling slightly at his side, a good indicator of how he'd spent the past hour. "Of course, that would require affirmation on Batman's part, and he's been….exceedingly more _Bat_ -like than usual, recently."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Barry asked, frowning. Beneath them, Superman let out a roar, taking out three bots at once with a vicious arm swipe. " _Jesus_."

"He's hiding out in Gotham," Hal interjected, shrugging. "Big deal. They fight all the time."

"Not like this," Oliver said, strangely somber. The other members turned to him, waiting for him to continue. "Something's wrong. Something happened in that other world that they're not telling us."

"It's not our business," Stewart crossed his arms, ring glinting. Hal resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm just glad we've got our leaders back."

"Yeah, but have you even laid eyes on Batman outside of the debrief?" Barry asked, getting a few shrugs in return. "He's avoiding the Watchtower."

Below, Superman dispatched the last robot, wavering on his feet a little as the room emptied, holograms disintegrating. Hal frowned, watching the other man carefully. "Is Clark…. _sweating_?"

"I don't think he _can,_ " Aquaman said from behind him. Hal jumped as something brushed his back. " _Chill._ Someone's jumpy."

"Yeah, well maybe I don't like getting backrubs from a razor-sharp _trident_ , alright?" he said, narrowing his eyes at the Atlantean. The group watched them, ignoring Clark in favor of a potential fight. "You know, unless you're into that kind of thing. Which you….might be, seeing as you're the only person I know who has a, um, trident."

"Nice save," Curry said, a grin hinting at his lips. Hal's stomach rolled. "Now. What were we talking about?"

Hal looked back at the practice room. It was empty, not even a chair out of place to indicate Clark had ever been there. The thought chilled him for some reason.

He made plans to corner Big Blue at lunch and let the whole thing slip away, finishing his coffee with a grimace. "Do you know the first rule about Fight Club, Curry?"

The Atlantean frowned. "No?"

"Don't talk about Fight Club."

* * *

Diana opened her door with a yawn, tying her robe shut one-handed. She paused mid-yawn, surprise overtaking her. "J'onn."

"May I come in?" the alien asked politely, not moving. She held the door open, checking the hallway briefly. The Watchtower was still fairly quiet; it was early, even for a satellite. She gestured towards her only two chairs, shutting the door firmly.

"Please. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," J'onn said, sitting quickly. "I'm afraid the reasons for my visit are less than….pleasant. I apologize for waking you at this hour."

"It's fine," she waved her hand diplomatically, sitting opposite the alien. "Please. Tell me what has you so rattled, my friend."

And he _did_ seem uncertain, a strange hesitation to his words. Diana felt herself tense under her robe, itching for the leather band of her shield, suddenly. "I must speak with you about Clark. I have...concerns about what may have occurred in that alternate world."

"Why not ask him directly?" Diana asked, crossing her legs. "I'm sorry, J'onn, but I didn't see much beyond the battle."

"I cannot ask Clark," J'onn looked out of her small window, uncharacteristically reticent. "Because this concerns the overlay of two timelines. When I fought my double, I...saw things. Saw what had happened in his world. Things that can never happen here, Diana."

"They won't," she said, frowning, "We're too far ahead. Our paths have already diverged from theirs'. You're not suggesting that Clark..."

J'onn stayed silent as she trailed off, still watching the earth through the porthole. Diana narrowed her eyes.

"What did you see that convinces you?" she asked, choosing not to voice her doubts yet. "And what does it have to do with Clark?"

"There are an infinite number of universes," J'onn murmured, not looking at her. "Some are just like our own...but for one or two significant events, exactly the same. All roads can lead to the same end--even if we think they won't."

"You're not making sense," Diana said, frowning. She touched his shoulder, shaking him from his reverie. "J'onn. You were speaking about Clark?"

"Lois Lane," he said, shaking his head slightly. "She was the turning point in the alternate world. Her death was the catalyst for Superman's regime."

"Then we'll watch her carefully," Diana said slowly, thinking it over. "Extra security. Perhaps she could move up here--"

"If only it were that simple," J'onn's face twisted, bleak. Diana cut off, concerned. "I tell you this in confidence, and also because you are the only founder I can trust with this knowledge. Do I have your word that what I am about to tell you does not leave this room?"

"I swear," Diana said immediately, watching J'onn's expression turn to one of relief.

"Lois Lane's death would be...inconsequential, now," the alien said, lips twisting at the bitterness of his own words, "You were aware of Clark's feelings for Bruce, were you not?"

It was her turn to hesitate. "I was."

"As far as I can recall, the other Superman's motives for capturing Batman were, in some twisted way, romantic. Batman left much of this out of his testimony," again, J'onn hesitated, his expression darkening, "….including his mating with that universe's Superman after his cells were regenerated."

Diana felt her jaw loosen. Shock kept her frozen, eyes locked on J'onn's face. "Mating."

J'onn pursed his lips, as if to say _wait, it gets worse._ "After Kal-El's death, Bruce and Clark both began to suffer from Kryptonite sickness...and withdrawal. I realized soon after what was wrong, but Clark had already left the Watchtower."

"Withdrawal." Diana repeated, feeling ridiculously stupid that all she could contribute were single words. "Are you implying what I think you're implying, J'onn?"

"Clark mated with Bruce to save his life," J'onn said, grave. He met her gaze evenly. "Kal-El's death would have killed him otherwise. It was consensual, as far as I can tell. That does not seem to matter; they both blame themselves."

"Of _course_ they do!"

J'onn acknowledged this with a nod. "So, when I say that Lois Lane's role in this is significantly decreased….is it because we have larger problems."

"This could tear the League apart," Diana said, thinking the implications over. Clark's face appeared in her mind, devastated by Bruce's disappearance--he had been withdrawn, so far away from the League that he'd nearly thrown her through a wall without realizing. "Beyond that...What can we do?"

J'onn's gaze was hesitant. " _Can_ we do anything?"

"Of course we can," Diana stood, finally giving way to the jittery energy in her limbs. "They're grown adults. They're close friends. They can get past this."

"We're not considering the greatest implication of their bond," J'onn said, standing as well. "Kal-El decimated the planet over a human woman," he met her gaze, his features a mask, "What would he do over the loss of his mate?"

Silence reigned, his words echoing in the small room. Diana shivered despite herself, her earlier energy forgotten.

"I don't know," she said. J'onn turned away, worry creasing his face. "I pray we never find out."

"So do I," J'onn said. He inclined his head, moving for the door. "Diana."

"J'onn," she replied, dazed as the alien exited her quarters. She stopped him with a hand. "He can never know."

Their gazes met across the threshold.

"No," J'onn said quietly, "And he won't. If we succeed, no one beyond us ever will."

With that, he left, the soft slide of his cape on the Watchtower floor the only indication of his presence. Diana watched him leave, then shut her door.

* * *

The Cave was strangely quiet for a Sunday. Damian didn't pretend for a moment that its emptiness didn't bother him. A weekend morning was spent on the mats more often than not--training, sparring, or something as ridiculous as _Tai Chi,_ anything to keep them in shape and moving.

Father was still resting upstairs. It had been close to four hours since he'd last seen him. The interval was worrying; it was longer than a normal illness should have incapacitated someone as healthy as Father.

Damian pursed his lips, pausing in the tiger stance. He kept himself balanced perfectly, eyeing the computer terminal across the room.

_Father was rather insistent on looking at the logs from last night,_ he thought, _perhaps the answer to his illness is there. Maybe he's too ill to see._

A cursory swipe across the keyboard opened up Father's earlier notes. Damian's eyes widened as the computer failed to prompt him for a password; they were changed on a daily schedule, encrypted past his abilities.

He browsed through Grayson's notes with a half-sneer, moving backwards towards the previous night's reports. A file buried in three folders caught his eye. He held his breath, debating his course of action.

The folder opened. A half-typed summary appeared on the screen. Damian stopped breathing for a moment, trapped in a moment of icy calm.

_-I fought once more with Kal-El in the cell. I provoked him. This time, my injuries were more catastrophic. I suffered kidney damage, a fractured pelvis, numerous broken ribs, and bilateral collapse of the lungs. According to the ship's logs, my heart stopped three times. The other Superman realized his mistake and placed me within the genesis chamber. I was healed, but not without the addition of approximately 15% Kryptonian DNA-_

Damian kept reading, unable to tear himself away from what he now realized were his Father's debrief notes.

_-intercourse with Kal-El to gain security access-_

_-unintentional effects on my nervous system-_

_-necessary secondary mating with Kal-El while unconscious-_

_-loss of autonomy post-interaction-_

By the time Damian had made it through the entire summary, he was breathing heavily. The alien had done the unspeakable--no wonder Father was acting so strangely. He was being _controlled._ Manipulated, right before their eyes, and nobody had even _realized._

A door opened at the top of the stairs, a near-silent pair of footsteps sounding on the landing.

Damian immediately grabbed his staff, tucking two daggers into his boots. He ducked over to the keyboard, typing quickly. The hidden compartment by the terminal opened, a soft green glow emanating from within.

"Baby bat…." Grayson called out, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He peered into the darkness of the cave. "Where are you? It's practice time. I know you don't wanna, 'cause I'm not Bruce, but you're gonna have to make do..."

Damian ducked behind a pillar, the rings tucked carefully into his belt. He eyed the stairs, then the motor vehicle exit. _Which one…_

"Not so fast," an escrima stick blocked his path before he could make a break for it. Grayson was frowning above him, wearing nothing but a loose pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "Hey. Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Get out of my _way_ ," he snapped back, ducking under the stick. Dick frowned, not letting him past. "Grayson, I am warning you. I won't ask again."

"Yeah, but I will," the taller man said, a worried expression on his face. He jabbed a stick at Damian's belt. "What are you--is that _Kryptonite_? Damian, what the hell?"

It was too late. He was running out of time. Damian swung up with the staff, dodging to his right. Grayson blocked it easily, a surprised shout torn from his lips.

" _Damian_!"

"Out of my _way_!" Damian cried, spinning and kicking at Grayson's legs. The other man jumped, blocking another feint with his sticks. They went back and forth, the brawl soon gaining momentum.

"Damian, _stop_!" Grayson cried out, backing up. They were almost by the stairs now, and Grayson was well aware of this. "I don't want to _hurt_ you. Tell me what's wrong, for Christ's sake!"

Damian paused, lowering the staff slightly.

"It's the alien...you wouldn't understand," he glared at the other man. " _You_ wouldn't. He's turned all of you against me. Even Father. That's why I have to go."

They watched each other, breathing heavily. He waited until Grayson lowered his sticks as well, tensing every muscle under his clothes, shifting ever so slightly in preparation. "Damian--"

With a vicious kick upwards, he swung the staff across Dick's lowered guard. The blunt end knocked into the other man's head, a sickening hollow sound echoing through the Cave as it connected. Grayson dropped to the floor, completely limp.

Damian checked his pulse, knowing he only had a few seconds before someone came to investigate. Kryptonite secure in his belt, he hurried towards the exit.

_Grandfather will know what to do._

_He has to._

* * *

Bruce groaned as a hand shook him, burrowing his head into the pillow. "Five more minutes, Alfred."

"You don't _have_ five minutes, Master Wayne!"

Alfred's tone had him wide awake in half a second. He slid out of bed, nearly knocking into the butler in his haste to get out of the bedroom. "What happened?"

"Master Damian decided to attack Master Dick in the cave almost three hours ago," Alfred said, lips pursed. He hurried behind Bruce into the elevator, shutting the doors with none too little haste. "He knocked him out and left with one of the motorbikes."

" _What_." Bruce said, rubbing a hand across his face. His blood was pumping, the thought of Dick--or Damian--in danger the only thing keeping him ambulatory. "Alfred--"

_"I threw an escrima stick at his head," Damian said, monotone, poking at a scuff mark on his sole. "He wasn't looking-I-we always used to play like that. He always caught it-I just-" he broke off, blase attitude disappearing as tears choked his voice. "He didn't see it. I didn't mean to. I swear…"_

The elevator doors opened. He stepped out to find Dick across one of the cots, an ice pack pressed to his forehead. He was breathing. He was alive. _Jesus Christ--_

"Dick," he murmured, at his eldest's side in less than two strides. "What happened?"

"Damian happened," Dick groaned, eyes closing instinctively as Bruce shined a penlight across his face, checking his pupils. "Quit it. Alfred already zapped me."

"You have a bad concussion," Bruce growled, grabbing the cot's rail to keep his hand from shaking. "What _happened_?"

"Damian went postal, okay? I don't know why," Dick said, pushing at Bruce's arm. "He took the--the Kryptonite. Wouldn't tell me why. He just kept muttering about the--the _alien._ Seemed pretty insistent on leaving."

Bruce looked up at Alfred, who was waiting silently at Dick's feet. "Get him to a hospital. I want that head injury checked out immediately."

"Bruce--"

He ignored Dick's protests, forcing himself to stay upright as he made his way to the computer terminal. A quick tap at the keyboard confirmed his suspicions: _Debrief notes. JL meeting, 02/15/17_ had recently been opened.

The secret compartment he'd housed the rings in was wide open. Damian hadn't been thinking--these were sloppy mistakes if he had been trying to cover his tracks. He looked inside the drawer just to check, wincing as the residual radiation began to dig at his skin.

A quick _ping_ from the computer redirected his attention. A notification from American Airlines--and not just any email. A booking confirmation for a flight that had boarded an hour ago.

_Talia--_

"I know where he's going," Bruce said, walking back towards the cot. "And I know why he took the kryptonite. I need to leave."

"You're not going anywhere," Dick said, pointing a shaky finger at him. Alfred was helping him to his feet, sending disapproving looks Bruce's way. "You can barely stand on your own. Hell, Bruce, you're paler than I am!"

"This is my problem," Bruce grit his teeth, steadying himself against the cot. "I'm the only one who can find him--"

Dick shook his head, then winced. "So outsource!"

"I _can't_."

Alfred put a hand out, blocking the elevator. "Master Bruce--"

The room spun, and the bond he'd been ignoring since the previous night was suddenly all he could feel--Clark's worry, Clark's anger, Clark's concern. Clark was worried--for him. He could _feel_ it, suddenly, and the nausea abated for a blissful moment.

For a moment, he could think coherently for the first time in nearly twelve hours. His only path forward was utterly clear.

"Take him to Gotham General, alright?" he instructed Alfred, putting a hand to his temple. The butler was looking at him strangely, his confusion mirrored in Dick's face. " _Do_ it, Alfred."

"Bruce, what are you--"

He turned from them and took a step forward, spreading his arms wide at the entrance of the cave.

" _Kal-El!_ " he roared, shoving every inch of his mind into the bond, until it threatened to unravel from the force. He _tore_ at Clark, the ache in his chest deepening to a burn. " _KAL-EL!"_

The Kryptonian was at his side in a millisecond, his eyes a deep red. His face was inhuman, Clark's handsome features twisted into a fearsome mask. There wasn't an inch of Clark Kent in this man. It didn't even come close.

Bruce grabbed his arm without thinking, half a second away from passing out. Almost immediately, he could feel the dizziness lessen.

"Upstairs," he told his mate, " _Now_."

* * *

A second passed in a blur of motion, and he was unceremoniously shoved against his bedroom's wall. The dark paneling creaked as Kal-El stepped even closer, a possessive hand closing around his throat. Bruce bit down on a moan as Clark's face drifted inches from his, ethereal in the low light.

He prayed Alfred had the sense to stay downstairs, prayed he would make it out of this in time. Prayed there was enough of Clark in Kal-El, just this once.

"You son of a bitch," Kal-El said, tight and controlled, as if he wasn't shivering against Bruce, trembling with restrained energy. "I should kill you. How _could_ you?"

Bruce tilted his head up, strangely thrilled to see Kal-El's gaze locked onto his lips, watching him with blistering focus. His voice seemed to ring in the enclosed space, deeper than he'd ever heard it.

"Maybe it was the only way to get your attention," he whispered, closer to a growl as Kal's hand tightened, "Maybe you needed to get your head out of your _ass_."

A second hand pressed to his chest, shoving him backwards. The wood paneling splintered, a halo of cracks appearing where his head connected with the wall. He gasped, vision whiting out.

"You _want_ this," Kal-El said in his ear, so tantalizingly close it took everything not to reach out. "Don't lie to me, Bruce. Not like you lied to _him_."

Bruce gasped as a hand undid his pants, struggling to retain any sort of control. The bond was practically vibrating, so overloaded with sensation, it was a miracle either of them could see straight. "F-fuck you."

Kal-El was close to lazy with lust, pupils dilated so wide, they swallowed the brilliant blue of his eyes. For a moment, Bruce couldn't breathe, couldn't _think_.

A blur of motion, and then he was on the bed, Kal-El stretched out above him. A burning hand pushed his thighs apart, something slick between the fingers. Then the Kryptonian was between his legs, and he stopped thinking at all.

* * *

Bruce in his arms was like a drug--it was addictive, controlling. It consumed his world, overshadowing any doubts; all he could feel, think, see was _Bruce_ \--

Any inhibitions he'd had about giving in had been decimated the moment Bruce had shouted his name. He couldn't have disobeyed if he'd wanted--Bruce's pain had called to him, clear as day, spanning cities in a heartbeat.

(and the part of him that only wanted to _take_ had revelled, burning inside him at the chance of release, _finally_ \--)

He pushed a finger up into Bruce, crooking it slightly. The other man's face twisted, pure pleasure ringing down the bond between them.

" _Kal,_ "

He grinned at the sound of his name, slowly pushing the finger in and out, catching the spot that sent sparks behind Bruce's eyes, that turned him into a quivering mess. Stretched him achingly slow, and yet too fast--

(if he had his way, he'd lay out Bruce for _days,_ circling one finger, bruising kisses against his throat until he _begged_ him--)

He pushed Bruce down into a punishing kiss, pressing the edge of a second finger in, stretching slightly. The other man groaned into his mouth and Kal fisted his hand in his hair, tugging him even closer.

In between one moment and the next, they were together. Kal bit off a cry as he slid into Bruce, feeling the man's legs lock behind him, urging him in with his heels. The bond was vibrating like a bell between the two of them; he swore he could feel it pulling him closer.

" _Move,_ " Bruce growled in his ear, the first coherent thing he'd said in a long time. Kal responded with a sharp thrust, starting up a bruising pace that shook the bed. "Jesus _f-fuck--_ "

It wasn't long before the other man lost the ability of speech again, biting off sweet little gasps with each thrust, refusing to let him win. Kal slowed his pace, pressing his face to Bruce's neck.

" _Kal,_ " Bruce whispered, so close to begging. He was utterly beautiful in that moment, eyes clenched shut, handsome face turned upwards, panting, "Kal, _please--_ "

With a growl he flipped them over, pushing in again. Bruce let out a choked yell, shuddering underneath him. A few thrusts and then he was clenching down around him. Kal let out a shout as his vision began to blur, burying himself in Bruce.

_Mine,_ he thought, and then he was coming too, so hard it left him breathless. He pushed his face into Bruce's shoulder as all coherent thought left him.

Bruce gasped a little in his arms, shuddering through the aftershocks, so fucking beautiful…

_Mine._

* * *

It was a long time before either of them could move, too caught up in each other to even think about moving apart. Bruce felt his breathing begin to slow, his heartbeat still erratic under his skin. Clark's face was pressed into his shoulder, a welcome heat at his back.

The sense of urgency from before returned, though it took longer than he would have liked. The bond settled over him, content and hazy, dampening his worry.

He half-heartedly shoved Clark off of him, rolling out from underneath the Kryptonian. Even the brief contact of his skin was enough to have him reconsidering--

A hand grabbed his wrist. Bruce met Clark's gaze, panic racing through him. Kal-El he could handle--Clark….Clark was a different story.

" _Stay_."

Bruce winced, wanting to do nothing but that. His chest tingled, a precursor to the vicious burn he knew would be coming soon. It didn't matter. Damian was in trouble, and that meant he was needed elsewhere--as much as it pained him to leave again.

"I can't," he said, gently removing his wrist from the man's grasp. "Damian--"

Clark, bless his gentle soul, seemed to understand. He handed Bruce his pants, dressing alongside him in the dark. Thirty seconds later, he was out the door, stalking towards the elevator. Everything was brighter; he swore he could feel the strength returning to his muscles with every step. 

"What are you doing?" he asked as Clark walked into the elevator with him.

"I'm going with you," the other man said, locking eyes with him. Bruce bit his lip as something flared through the bond, gone as soon as it came. "We'll get there faster if I fly."

Bruce stepped out into the Cave, making his way to the armor case immediately. "...Fine." He grabbed the handle and opened the first drawer, refusing to look at the other man, "But we are _not_ talking about this."

"No," Clark said, a strange tension in his voice. It almost sounded like disappointment, "I guess we aren't."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap in between posts! I promise after this week posting will get more consistent. I hope you enjoy!

**_Before_ **

_"What are you doing?" he asked as Clark walked into the elevator with him._

_"I'm going with you," the other man said, locking eyes with him. Bruce bit his lip as something flared through the bond, gone as soon as it came. "We'll get there faster if I fly."_

_Bruce stepped out into the Cave, making his way to the armor case immediately. "...Fine." He grabbed the handle and opened the first drawer, refusing to look at the other man, "But we are not talking about this."_

_"No," Clark said, a strange tension in his voice. It almost sounded like disappointment, "I guess we aren't."_

* * *

**_Now_ **

Damian stood at the center of the throne room. He kept a hand on his sword’s hilt as shadows circled around him. Their robes made no sound on the thick rugs or the dirt floor. He could not see their faces, but he knew they were watching him. Whispering. Waiting.

The curtain in the far corner was pushed to the side. A moment later, Mother stepped out, a dark cloak swirling at her feet. Her eyes found him immediately, a sharp green he knew intimately.

He dropped to his knees, feeling them burn into his very being. The dirt was cool against his palms, a welcome respite from the burning sun outside of the tent. The sensation of her examining him did not leave the air.

“Damian,” Mother said softly, a question and a greeting. She waved off two of the guards, stepping down from the platform. Damian remained prostrate, impossibly still. “My child. Look at me.”

He raised his head, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered. She smiled at him, putting a finger under his chin. He let her raise his face to her, accepting the proffered kiss on his forehead.

“I require assistance, Mother,” he said, as she seemed to hesitate. He set his jaw, rising to his feet. “If you ever loved Father...you and Grandfather will help me. You will listen to what I have to say.”

Mother’s hands tightened around his face, but her lips remained in place, curved into a soft smile.

“ _Bruce_ needs our help? How...interesting.”

“Please,” Damian interjected, reaching into his robe. He pulled out the kryptonite rings, cupping them in his hands. Mother’s face froze as he lifted them up. “He won’t listen to me--I need your help. I have much to tell you--”

“Indeed you do,” she cut him off, turning towards the door. “Come with me. We will speak with your Grandfather immediately.”

Damian inclined his head and hurried after her. He ignored the way the shadows seemed to gather behind them, watching him as he left.

* * *

 Bruce changed quickly into a lighter version of the Batsuit, shedding his clothes and layering on kevlar in record time. Clark looked away, studying the Cave wall with more focus than necessary as buckles and clasps were fastened.

The armor lacked a cowl, but made up for it with a raised collar. The kevlar weave framed Bruce’s face well, coming to a tapered edge just under his jaw. The panels of the armor itself were sleeker, with fewer gaps and reinforced sections. The suit finished with a thick pair of boots, laced from the bottom with wide straps.

“Desert armor,” Bruce explained, sending him a brief glance as he buckled the final strap. Clark realized that he was frowning and attempted to smile. “Lighter, easier to navigate in sand. Better temperature regulation.”

“We’re going somewhere with a desert, then.”

The other man’s lips tightened, ever so briefly. The true hint lay in the bond--even closed off on Bruce’s end, he could feel the ripple of uncertainty his question evoked.

“Ra’s’ compound.” Bruce tilted his head, as if to concede the point. “I suspect Damian is trying to contact his Grandfather, if he hasn’t done so already.”

Clark stared at him for a moment, struck half-dumb. He’d always known, in theory, that Bruce’s blood-child had been made in partnership with someone else. Talia Al Ghul--someone he’d had the pleasure of never meeting, though he’d heard plenty of stories.

And yet, the idea that Bruce had had a relationship with this woman--his _enemy,_ by all definitions--enraged him. The man whose body had just been _his_ \--

Bruce stepped off towards the mouth of the cave, either oblivious to his anger or unsympathetic. He tilted his head slightly, the light catching his profile, as if to say _ready?_

“We need a plan,” Clark said, taking deliberately slow steps towards his mate. He focused on the smothered bond, willing Bruce to open up. “We can’t just run in there guns blazing. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

“We have a plan,” the billionaire said, sharp. Clark felt the wave of urgency a half-millisecond before piercing blue eyes were turned on him. “We’re getting my son back. If you don’t want to help, then you can drop me off and leave.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” Clark rebutted, getting a glare for his trouble. He stood his ground, rising to his full height. He thought he felt a small flicker of arousal somewhere deep in the bond and revelled in that victory briefly. “You have a plan--you always do. I’m asking that you share it with me.”

Bruce tilted his head again, the urgency still thrumming between them. Absently, Clark noted the purpling bruises circling his throat, nearly invisible under the raised collar. Was he doing it on purpose…?

“Ra’s has a desert compound outside of Baiji. Damian will be there, with maybe forty or fifty guards. Talia and the other League members will be nearby,” he paused, looking up at Clark. “Damian has both of my Kryptonite rings.”

“Then we need to be careful.”

“No, _you_ need to be careful,” Bruce said, turning on him. Clark liked to think it was concern he saw in the other man’s eyes, but it could have been irritation for all he knew. “It affects you ten times as much as it does me.”

“I’m not human,” he bit back, feeling Bruce’s concern echo down the bond, quickly turning to anger. “And we’re wasting time.”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Bruce muttered, looking towards the Cave’s entrance. “We have to--what are you _doing_?”

Clark tightened his arms around Bruce’s torso, pulling him flush. His chest ached with delight as they were pressed closer.

(Just holding him--feeling the brush of Bruce’s hair against his nose, or the warmth of his cheek against him--was too much)

“We’re flying, remember?” Clark braced his hand against Bruce’s neck, shifting him slightly. “This is faster.”

Bruce looked up, mouth opening to say something snide and biting. Clark made the mistake of looking down at the same moment, and the world slammed to a halt as they realized they were too close--inches away from each other, face to face.

( _Rao, but Bruce’s eyes were blue--)_

“We need to go,” Bruce whispered, and this time Clark didn’t need the bond to guess at his emotions. “Damian…”

“Right,” Clark cleared his throat, nudging Bruce’s head so it was lowered against his chest. He steeled himself, willing the bond to the background of his mind. “Hold on.”

* * *

 Dick let his head fall back, wincing as it connected with the pillow wedged under his neck. Even with Wayne money, the hospital accommodations were still...hospital-esque.

_Or maybe that was the concussion..._

“I suspect it is the concussion, sir,” Alfred said from above him, his clipped accent soothing in the noise and clamor of the ER department. “The pillow looks up to expectations in the fluffing department.”

Dick screwed his eyes shut, willing another wave of nausea to go away. _Did I just say that out loud?_

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, I think we can all agree I am...rather concussed,” Dick threw up a finger, getting a half-muffled snort from the butler. “But we need to get out of here.”

“I’m afraid, even if I supported your jailbreak endeavor, the hospital staff would have a conniption,” Dick didn’t have to have his eyes open to imagine the smirk on Alfred’s lips. “Regardless, Master Bruce insisted you have proper medical treatment--”

“I’ve had concussions before, alright?” Dick said, but his assertive tone came out more plaintive and whiny. Alfred snorted again. “I’m _fine_. They did the tests already, now they’re just gonna keep waking me up in case I die. Which they couldn’t really prevent from happening anyway, so what’s the point?”

“My goodness, I forgot how chatty you were concussed,” Alfred murmured, flicking at another page in the _New Yorker._ Somewhere behind him, a phone began ringing. “Try to relax. The doctor should be back any minute now.”

“I can’t relax,” Dick said immediately, cracking his eyes open. A frowny Alfred was looking down at him. “Just--knowing Bruce is about to charge after Damian while still-- _sick,_ or whatever--it just, doesn’t sit well with me. We have to go after him.”

“You can’t stand,” Alfred said, droll. He flipped the magazine back open. “How exactly do you plan on parading off to another continent in your condition, hmm?”

“Drugs, Alfred. _Really good_ drugs.”

The butler scoffed. “Now you sound like Master Bruce.”

“I’m not done,” Dick tried to raise his head a few inches, getting another frown for his trouble. “Maybe...your help?”

“My help?” Alfred’s eyebrow rose. He put the magazine down, his gaze flicking to the door. “How on earth would I help?”

“You can operate a Taser, can’t you?”

The eyebrow rose even further.

“Dear lord.”

* * *

 The trip across the ocean was fairly uneventful. Bruce was surprised at how well his armor held up against the wind and temperature. Perhaps Clark was being extra courteous, flying at a lower speed, though he couldn’t fathom why. They’d flown faster together before, whether in battle, or for some other emergency.

Yet, flying had never been this... _intimate_ before. Clark’s hand remained stubbornly around his neck, another just above his lower back. This high up, at these speeds, he shouldn’t have been able to feel the heat of those hands through the suit. And yet…

They touched down on sand a few moments later. Bruce carefully pressed the bond out of his mind, ignoring the worry he could feel emanating from Clark. The hands slipped from his back almost reluctantly, trailing fire in their wake.

“We’re about 600 feet out,” he said quietly, gesturing Clark over to some minimal cover. “Any chance you can x-ray the interior?”

The Kryptonian nodded, turning towards the compound wordlessly. With a quick steadying breath, he opened his eyes. Bruce watched as his eyes shifted slightly, glazing over.

“Sixty people inside,” Clark said a moment later, his voice low. Bruce felt a pang of some nameless emotion at the sound and clamped down on it before it could interfere. “I see Damian in the west corner. He has a woman with him--”

“Talia,” Bruce interjected, gritting his teeth. “And an older man?”

“...yes.”

“Ra’s, then,” he shook his head, pulling out a pair of binoculars. “I don’t know what Damian was thinking.”

“Contacting Ra’s?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, dropping the binoculars. Clark was watching him carefully, his expression neutral. He dropped his gaze, ill-accustomed to being out in the field without a cowl.

“You know I had...a history with him. Training and...other things.” He could feel Clark’s jealousy flare to the forefront of the bond for a second. “It wasn’t good, and Damian went through much more...taxing circumstances.”

“He’s scared,” Clark turned his gaze back to the compound. Bruce had a feeling he was watching Damian again--his gaze was slightly unfocused, tracking something slowly. “He’s worried for you. Maybe he feels like he has no other choice.”

“There’s always a better choice than the League of Shadows,” Bruce bit out, getting to his feet. He held out a hand, disproportionately gratified when Clark took it immediately. “Let’s go.”

“Bruce--” the other man hesitated as he stood, sending the compound an uncertain glance. “I don’t--I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel--right.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“No, you know what I mean,” Clark reached out for his shoulder, his hand faltering an inch away. Bruce didn’t move, holding his breath. “ _We’re_ not right. _We’re_ not okay, Bruce. You and me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Bruce backed up deliberately, ignoring the hurt look across Clark’s face. “What matters is saving my _son._ Do you understand?”

“Of course I do,” Clark hissed, pushing forward so he was in Bruce’s space again. His eyes had shifted again, a muddy hue that precipitated the glowing red of his heat vision. “I love him too, alright? This is about you not being focused, and putting yourself in danger!”

“Get off of me,” Bruce said, refusing to back up. “It doesn’t matter if I get hurt. The only thing that matters here is _Damian,_ and I won’t ask again: do you _understand_?”

Clark was vibrating with tension, their gazes locked. A pinprick of red had appeared in either of his pupils, growing slowly. “I...understand.”

Bruce tore his gaze away, feeling the loss of contact like an ache in his chest. He pushed a boot forward, digging it into the sand. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to turn around, and to listen to Clark’s words. He wasn’t wrong--far from it--and yet, the urge to protect his own--to rescue Damian--had to overrule this, instincts be damned.

“Alright,” he said, “Let’s go.”

* * *

 Bruce took down most of the assassins with ease, though they only encountered a few. Clark was content to walk a half-step behind the Bat, unneeded and unnecessary. The compound was fairly secure, to its credit; but even Ra’s Al Ghul couldn’t see through walls.

“Left,” Clark murmured as Bruce took out another guard, steering him slightly with an outstretched hand. “Through the door there, then to your right is a chamber. I think they’re waiting for us.”

“That would explain the welcoming committee,” Bruce grunted, kicking the last guard in the head. Clark felt the ripple of adrenaline echo down the bond and shuddered slightly. “Or lack of it.”

They followed his directions slowly, tucked into the shadows as they crossed the compound. Bruce sent him one final look as they stepped into the larger room, his eyes eerily bright in the low light.

Clark’s guess had been right; at the center of the chamber was a trio, surrounded by a dozen dark figures. Damian stood at the front, a woman in black at his shoulder. Behind them, an older man sat on what looked like a...throne?

“Father.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. Clark was amazed. Across the bond, his emotions were roiling. Clark bit his tongue as he forced the connection backwards, trying to think around the waves of hurt and concern. _This_ was what it felt like to be a father, he guessed--neverending worry and hurt, behind a blank mask.

“Damian,” Bruce didn’t step forward, but his eyes were tracking the room’s occupants carefully. “...Talia.”

The woman in the dark cloak smiled, the expression sending a shiver down Clark’s spine. She looked Bruce up and down slowly. “You’re looking well, for what Damian informed me concerning your...changes.”

Damian dipped his head a little as Bruce gaze swung over to him, not daring to meet his father’s eyes. “I’m well, Talia. Thank you for asking.”

“Bruce.”

Everyone in the room turned to the older man in the throne. He was wearing a dark green cape that fastened just over his right shoulder, a sword on his belt. Dark hair framed glowing green eyes, graying at his temples. A certain power seemed to settle around him, deadening the air in the room.

“Ra’s,” Bruce’s lips twitched, the first real display of emotion. He inclined his head slightly. “You look well.”

“How impolite to address your son first, and not your father-in-law,” Ra’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned back, surveying them. “However, I suppose niceties must be suspended in your...condition.”

“My condition?” Bruce asked, raising his eyebrows. He looked at Damian briefly, who half-stepped closer to Talia. “And what exactly would that be?”

“Consorted to the Kryptonian filth,” Ra’s growled, gesturing towards Clark. The faux-pleasantness of the man’s greeting dissipated instantly. “Whored out for power, though I wouldn’t have expected it from someone as proud as you--”

“I have done nothing that needs defending,” Bruce bit back, taking a step forward. Clark felt a pang of nervousness and followed him, sending a warning glare towards Ra’s. “I am here for my son.”

“He doesn’t want you,” Talia interjected, smug. She wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulders, pulling him close. “He knows you’ve been compromised.”

Bruce ignored her, looking up at Ra’s. “I have not.”

“How can you decide that, when your judgement is the one in question?”

Clark felt the first echo of despair in the bond, turning instinctively to comfort his mate. Bruce’s shoulders relaxed minutely as he stepped closer, unconsciously reassured.

“If you’d like to discuss judgement,” Ra’s quirked an eyebrow at Bruce’s darker tone, “We can start with your failing mind, Ra’s--”

“Lies,” Talia hissed, stepping forward. “Damian, don’t listen to your father...or whoever he is currently.”

_That_ stung. Clark could feel it himself. Even Damian’s face tightened, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. Bruce seemed to notice this as well.

“Damian,” the billionaire knelt, crouching down to his son’s level. “Damian, look at me.”

Green eyes settled on them, eerily similar to Talia’s. Damian’s lips pursed, as if in restraint.

“I am not compromised,” Bruce said softly, raw honesty on his face. Clark stepped even closer, feeling his hackles rise. “I appreciate what you’re doing--you think you’re protecting me, and I am so grateful. But you cannot stay here with them.”

“How can I trust you?” Damian whispered, so soft Clark almost didn’t catch the words. Talia’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “The alien could be controlling you, even now.”

“Damian--”

“You won’t convince him.”

Bruce turned to Ra’s, his jaw clenched. “You’ve taken a scared child and fed his fears. Of course he would be doubtful.”

“I don’t believe he’s fearful at all,” Ra’s lips curled. He pushed himself up from the throne, shaking slightly with the effort. “I think he sees more than even you could, detective.”

Talia smiled briefly at her father, then turned back to Bruce. “If you feel you can convince him, then do try.”

“Damian,” Bruce was as close to pleading as Clark had ever seen him. He was trying to catch Damian’s gaze, a hand outstretched slightly at his side. “Please, don’t do this.”

Ra’s was watching the interaction carefully. His hand remained around his sword, stroking the hilt slowly.

“Father, I…” Damian took a hesitant step forward, confliction clear on his face. Talia’s arm tightened, tugging him back, but he pulled away. “I…”

Clark felt his stomach drop, unable to explain the sudden unease that rushed through him. Bruce stood, his arms outstretched slightly. Damian pushed his mother away completely and ran forward, his head bowed. Every instinct within him was screaming to _stop_ him, to jump forward as Damian flung himself into his father’s arms and--

and slipped something green between the panels of his suit, jamming it into flesh with a calculated thrust. Bruce’s hands dropped to his side, a breath forced from his lungs as his son stepped back.

“D-damian…”

Clark felt a wave of dizziness overtake him as Bruce fell to his knees, the Kryptonite sliver still sticking out of his side. There was blood pooling under the tear in the armor’s lining, leaking past the kevlar.

“ _Nooo_!”

He was at Bruce’s side in less than a millisecond, digging at the wound. With a gasp, he pulled the Kryptonite out of his mate; it couldn’t have been larger than his thumb, but even this close, touching it was close to unbearable.

_\--must be one of the rings, the size is about the same---_

Bruce went limp in his arms, his face deathly pale as unconsciousness took him. Clark threw the shard away, tugging his mate close in his arms. He cradled his head carefully, laying the other man against his chest.

He could _see_ the Kryptonite flowing from the stab wound--could see it trickling into Bruce’s bloodstream, weakening him significantly. He could see cells dying--could feel the bond between them strain as Bruce’s heartbeat rabbited under his thumb.

The room was utterly silent. All he could hear was Bruce’s breathing, his tiny gasps as the poison in his blood entered his heart. If he didn’t get him to the sun lamps soon---

Clark looked up to see Damian’s half-smirk, knowing his eyes were burning. Child or not, it was hard not to let Kal-El take over--to obliterate whoever had done this, to burn the entire compound to the ground with Bruce’s child inside--

“Why would you--”

He willed his eyes to stop burning, taking a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at Damian with betrayal clear on his face.

“What have you _done_?”

Ra’s was smiling openly, ignoring his unspoken threat. Next to his throne, Talia was ushering Damian away from his father and Clark. The smaller boy was staring at his hands, his head bowed.

There was blood smudged in between his fingers. _Bruce’s_ blood.

“I,” Damian turned his head, looking back at his father’s body. His eyes were wide, slightly unfocused. “I didn’t…”

“He’s done exactly what was expected of him,” Ra’s nodded at the Kryptonite at Clark’s feet, still enough to burn him at this distance. “There’s nothing like a father’s love for a child, is there?”

“I will kill you,” Clark promised the older man. Bruce cradled in his arms was the only thing keeping his hands steady. “Do you understand?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Ra’s raised an eyebrow at the guard closest to them. “ _Mīn fāḍlīkā_ , Ahmad.”

Clark turned his head to see Bruce’s other Kryptonite ring on the hand of one of the assassins. He tried to push himself to his feet, but even a few hundred paces away, the Kryptonite was leaching the strength from his limbs. He grit his teeth, turning back to Ra’s.

“I swear. If you hurt Bruce,” Clark gasped as the Kryptonite drew closer, not giving Ra’s the victory of seeing him let go of his mate, “I will tear you apart.”

The last thing he saw was Ra’s crooked smile, Damian seated at his feet. A powerful blow struck him across the temple, and then he knew nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break, again. I lied about being more consistent. The only thing I'm consistent about is being inconsistent. Thankfully, I'm not giving up on this story, and I'm glad you aren't either!

_**Before** _

" _What have you done?"_

_Ra's was smiling openly, ignoring his unspoken threat. Next to his throne, Talia was ushering Damian away from his father and Clark. The smaller boy was staring at his hands, his head bowed._

_There was blood smudged in between his fingers. Bruce's blood._

" _I," Damian turned his head, looking back at his father's body. His eyes were wide, slightly unfocused. "I didn't…"_

" _He's done exactly what was expected of him," Ra's nodded at the Kryptonite at Clark's feet, still enough to burn him at this distance. "There's nothing like a father's love for a child, is there?"_

" _I will kill you," Clark promised the older man. Bruce cradled in his arms was the only thing keeping his hands steady. "Do you understand?"_

" _No, I'm afraid I don't," Ra's raised an eyebrow at the guard closest to them. " Mīn fāḍlīkā , Ahmad."_

_Clark turned his head to see Bruce's other Kryptonite ring on the hand of one of the assassins. He tried to push himself to his feet, but even a few hundred paces away, the Kryptonite was leaching the strength from his limbs. He grit his teeth, turning back to Ra's._

" _I swear. If you hurt Bruce," Clark gasped as the Kryptonite drew closer, not giving Ra's the victory of seeing him let go of his mate, "I will tear you apart."_

_The last thing he saw was Ra's crooked smile, Damian seated at his feet. A powerful blow struck him across the temple, and then he knew nothing._

* * *

_**Now** _

Clark woke sluggishly, the bitter taste of Kryptonite on his tongue. He tugged on his wrists, wincing as his muscles ached at the motion. The familiar drain on his strength was heightened. Even opening his eyes was a monumental effort.

"You're awake," Talia looked unimpressed as she stood before him, tapping a heel against the floor. "Don't bother trying to break the chains. The mineral has weakened you...significantly."

Clark looked up at the ceiling, and the chains that descended to his wrists. A green glow caught his eye. Around his neck was Bruce's remaining Kryptonite ring, pressed against his collarbones. He moaned softly as unconsciousness wore away, the ring digging into his skin.

_Bruce…_

Talia's eyes glittered in the low light. She was intimidating despite the impressive height difference between them. Her heel tapped again, impatient. "You don't speak his name."

He must have said that out loud, then.

"Now--"

Clark struggled to focus as the bond flared to life behind his eyes, making him gasp. Talia's words cut off as a sickening wave of pain rolled through him, superimposing over the Kryptonite's burn.

_Bruce…_

"-- _listen_ to me!" Talia's hand caught his cheek, her nails scraping at his skin. Clark barely registered the pain as blood dripped from the cuts, hot on his cheek. "My beloved is  _dying_ , and you will tell me how to heal him, or so help me, I will do far worse to you. Do you  _understand_?"

 _Bruce's heart was almost completely enveloped in Kryptonite now. Clark could see the mineral, somehow, pulsing through the chambers and ventricles. He could_ feel  _the numbing burn, how it leached the very life from his cells--_

"S-sun," Clark choked out, twisting in the chains as Bruce's heart began to slow. "He needs  _sun,_ h-hurry--"

Talia was already halfway out the doorway, her skirts swirling behind her. Clark clenched his eyes shut as the pain echoing down the bond became incomprehensible. He could feel the stab wound in Bruce's side like it was his own, could barely distinguish where one of them began and the other ended.

Bruce's heart stalled just as Talia flung his body into the desert sun. The silence was deafening.

Clark froze.

_No--_

There was nothing. No sound, no noise, no movement. No life. Just...nothing.

Kal  _roared._

He shook in his chains, letting out a scream that shook the foundations of the room. He  _willed_ Bruce's heart to start again, pressing all of his strength into the bond.

 _Bruce's cells seemed to recognize him, shifting as he pushed more and more into the bond. He could_ feel  _the sun on Bruce's skin like it was his own, could feel how those cells called to the sun, desperate for energy--_

Clark gasped as he felt the familiar heartbeat begin under Bruce's skin. It was impossible, and yet...

He slumped forward in his chains. The room spun around him, a wave of dizziness forcing his eyes closed. He felt the heat of sunlight on his face, then nothing more.

* * *

" _\--seem to be connected--"_

" _She nearly killed him."_

" _That was the child."_

Bruce's mind translated the whispered Arabic slowly. His entire body was numb. Opening his eyes was out of the question. He could barely breathe around the pain in his side, taking slow, measured breaths to avoid crying out.

" _Same thing,"_ one of the guards whispered above him. " _How young is the boy, again? Too young to be in the League--"_

The other guard clicked his tongue. " _You are new. The child is hers. He could cut your tongue out for your slander."_

" _I meant no offense."_

" _Of course not."_

Bruce felt out for the bond gingerly, like he was pressing a bruise. He felt nothing but a deep unconsciousness from Clark, the echo of pain traveling between them.  _But he's alive._

There was a shift in the conversation above him. Bruce returned to translating, stumbling slightly over the tenses.

" _His wound is not healing."_

There was a shuffling noise, and a quick hand at his side. " _No, it is not_."

" _How much blood do we have?"_

" _Not enough, that's certain--ah. She's coming."_

The two guards returned to their posts, swearing under their breath. Bruce heard Talia dismiss them in emotionless Arabic, stepping into the room with a click of her heels.

"Beloved."

Bruce forced his eyes open, wincing. Bright light shone into his eyes, blinding him temporarily.

He turned his head, the feeling of sunlight on his skin cathartic. There was a skylight far above his head, magnifying the light down into the room.

"Talia," he said, his voice close to a rasp, "Why the sudden change in tone?"

Talia frowned at him, something he'd once called a pout, and never again. She was wearing her robes from before, a streak of red across one sleeve.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean." She took a step towards the bed he was lying across, tilting her head. "Are you in pain?"

"Of course I'm in pain. Our child  _stabbed_ me."

Her expression soured slightly, and the hand resting on the bed frame tightened briefly. "He was doing the right thing, freeing you from that-that  _alien_."

"Right," Bruce muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position with a stifled groan. Talia's hands supported him, her nails digging into the soft cloth of whatever robes they'd dressed him in. "That's why I have a stab wound in my side that won't clot."

There was an IV in either arm, a bag of blood attached to each. Bruce pulled on them weakly, wondering how much blood he'd lost. The bandage against his side was wet, slick against his skin.

"Cauterization is always an option," Talia said, sitting on the bed next to him. Bruce snorted. "I will admit, its nature is...perplexing, but your overall condition had improved greatly. You will recover."

"You put me in the sun," Bruce said, in lieu of addressing her claim. Talia chose to examine her nails suddenly, turning away from him. "You spoke to Clark, didn't you?"

"Damian could have provided that information."

"But he  _didn't_ ," Bruce felt his head spin, and willed his breathing to settle.  _God, Damian._ "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Don't play games with me, Talia, God  _damn_ it!"

Talia turned to him with wide eyes, surprised at his outburst. Bruce choked on his next breath, the pain in his side red-hot. He felt blood sliding down his side, leaking past the bandage.

"The alien is irrelevant. Damian freed you from his influence. He poisoned the roots inside your mind. Inside your  _body._ " Talia grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. "You're  _free_."

"You have no...no idea what you've done," Bruce said, breathing heavily. The room began to spin again, but slowing his heart rate had no effect this time. Even the sun's influence was distant, a warm touch on his skin he could barely feel. "Damian…"

"He is safe." Talia pressed him back into the pillows, her hand gentle against his sternum. "Rest."

The last thing he saw as she left the room was Damian's wide eyes, just past her hip. A quick flash of green, and the boy disappeared into the shadows, like he'd never been there.

Bruce opened his mouth to call out, to say  _something,_ but his eyelids were heavy. He fell back in exhaustion, asleep before his head hit the pillows.

* * *

"He is not free from the alien's influence. I suspect we've only removed part of it. He asks for him. He seems to know he is still alive."

Damian bit his tongue as Mother trailed off, stock-still on the throne's stairs. Grandfather was listening carefully, a hand on his sword.

"But you think the introduction of the Kryptonite had an effect."

Mother bowed her head. "Yes, Father."

"Then continue. Give it to him in transfusions if he cannot handle more trauma."

"Father, his heart stopped twice already," she replied, an unfamiliar tinge of doubt in her voice. "He--"

_Father, his heart stopped twice already._

Damian froze, a small noise escaping his mouth before he shut his lips. Grandfather seemed not to notice, his eyes on Mother. 

 _This isn't right,_ a voice said in the back of his head. It sounded a lot like Dick. Damian's heart ached for a moment, and he willed it not to show on his face.  _Father--_

"Freeing him from this alien's influence is of utmost importance," Ra's' eyes flashed at Mother's tone. His grip on the sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Do you understand?"

"I-yes. Of course."

Grandfather dismissed both of them with a wave of his hand. "Then go."

Damian ran after Mother, shoving between two guards as she left the throne room. "Mother. I must speak with you," he said, breathing heavily.

She continued down the hallway, ignoring him.

" _Mother,_ please.  _Please_."

"What," she said coldly, slowing her pace a fraction. It was barely enough for him to keep up. "Quickly, I don't have time."

"Father cannot bear more Kryptonite," he said, rushed. "I've seen the-the alien when he has been injured by it before. Any more introduction would kill him."

"It is irrelevant."

He bit down on a frustrated growl. "You said yourself, his heart cannot take more--"

"You will let me be the judge of my own words," Mother snapped, shoving him aside. "Leave me. I'm too busy for this."

Damian bowed his head and let her pass, his fists trembling at his sides.

* * *

Clark woke the second time to the weak beating of Bruce's heart.

The burn of the Kryptonite was still present. He had to give Talia credit--placing it at his throat was as effective as muzzling him. He could barely breathe through the pain.

Across the bond, Bruce's wound still dug at him. The other man was asleep, as far as Clark could tell, which was a small mercy.

He was alone this time, which gave him a few minutes to catalogue the room. He tugged on the chains, his muscles aching from the lack of movement.

It wouldn't be long before the lack of bloodflow to his arms would become worrying. He wished desperately that the Kryptonite was even an inch away from him--even a millimeter away, instead of pressed directly to his skin. The relief it would bring would be enough to clear his head--enough to begin planning some sort of escape, if that were even possible. 

They'd left him in his pants, only removing his shirt and shoes. Bruce's blood was splattered across the jeans, staining them in dark red. There was blood still caked on his hands, flaking off his skin as it dried.

He felt the rage rise up within him again and bit his tongue, pushing it down. His eyes flickered, fighting against the Kryptonite's hold.

The door to the room opened, a quick chatter of Arabic echoing down the hallway. Damian stepped in a second later, a tray in his hands.

Clark could tell by the way the boy paled that his eyes were still red.  _Good._

The door closed. Damian said nothing, placing the tray on a table to his left. His eyes were on Clark the entire time, like he was watching a leashed dog.

The urge to hurt, to  _kill_ the child in front of him was sudden, and he choked on the emotion, horrified. For a moment, he didn't recognize Damian--he saw only the enemy. Someone who'd harmed his mate--someone who'd nearly killed both of them.

"They are about to begin Kryptonite transfusions on Father," Damian said quietly, removing a familiar shard of the green rock from his robe. "Soon, he'll be free from you, and the bond will be broken."

 _That's not how it works._  

"Since I cannot kill you now, that will have to wait." 

Clark felt his eyes burn even brighter as the boy stepped towards him, leaning forward. "What do you think you're doing?" 

"Hurrying," Damian said cryptically, reaching out with the Kryptonite. "Hold still."

"Anything you do to me hurts him. You read Bruce's files. You  _have_ to know that." Clark winced as Damian moved the shard towards his heart, "He can't take anymore."

"I know," Damian whispered, so soft, Clark barely caught it. "I know that."

A moment's hesitation, and then the boy dug the shard just below his collarbone. Clark bit down, a cry trapped in his throat as pain burned through him.

"Scream," Damian was saying, somewhere above him. He twisted the Kryptonite, a hint of panic to his voice, " _Scream,_ you idiot! They need to hear you!"

The shard slipped past the bone and into muscle, and this time, Clark didn't have a choice. He screamed as the shard dug deeper, unable to process anything beyond  _pain_ and  _no no no no no no no no._

Damian slid the shard out of his flesh, placing it carefully back into his robes. He grabbed Clark by the chin, jerking him forwards.

"Listen to me. They're going to start the transfusions. Father won't survive. They had to--" Damian cut off, his voice cracking briefly. "They had to restart his heart twice. He can't take more. It will kill him--" He cut off again, breathing heavily. "I--I need your help."

"What makes you think that I would  _ever_ help you?" Clark asked, outraged, "You nearly killed him. You nearly killed us both."

"Because he will die," Damian said, stepping back. He gathered his tray, looking around the room furtively. "They won't wait long to come back here. I need your word you'll help me."

"...This doesn't make us square."

"Of course not," Damian muttered, glancing at him one last time. "I'm doing this for Father. Not myself."

With that, he was gone. Clark braced himself against the wall, trying to ignore the blood pouring from his shoulder.

_Bruce, wherever you are, just--hold on, okay? Hold on, just a little longer. For me, for Damian, for whoever. Just--please, okay? Please hold on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked it? Leave me a comment, and let me know what you thought! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Bat Shit Crazy, who has been amazing and a constant friend through everything. Hope you enjoy Bays :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry this hasn't been updated as frequently as I would've liked. I've been all over with writing recently (if you've been following my tumblr) and I've let this slide. Not anymore! 
> 
> As I said above, this chapter is dedicated to Bat Shit Crazy. Hope you have an amazing week Bays!

**_Before_ **

_"Listen to me. They're going to start the transfusions. Father won't survive. They had to--" Damian cut off, his voice cracking briefly. "They had to restart his heart twice. He can't take more. It will kill him--" He cut off again, breathing heavily. "I--I need your help."_

_"What makes you think that I would ever help you?" Clark asked, outraged, "You nearly killed him. You nearly killed us both."_

_"Because he will die," Damian said, stepping back. He gathered his tray, looking around the room furtively. "They won't wait long to come back here. I need your word you'll help me."_

_"...This doesn't make us square."_

_"Of course not," Damian muttered, glancing at him one last time. "I'm doing this for Father. Not myself."_

_With that, he was gone. Clark braced himself against the wall, trying to ignore the blood pouring from his shoulder._

_Bruce, wherever you are, just--hold on, okay? Hold on, just a little longer. For me, for Damian, for whoever. Just--please, okay? Please hold on._

* * *

  ** _Now_**

Bruce woke sluggishly, pushing through a wave of dizziness. The room came into focus around him, shadowed and empty. Just past the door, he could hear footsteps, paired with the low murmur of Arabic.

The skylight was dark. He missed the sun, with an almost startling intensity. He could feel the wound in his side, sucking away at his lagging strength; the sunlight had only prolonged his suffering, it seemed.

 _Clark,_ he thought, wincing as he sat up, _where are you?_

Across the bond, he could still feel the heavy bitterness of Kryptonite between them. He put a hand to his throat, alarmed at the heat of his skin. Another wave of dizziness swept over him, threatening to send him back into unconsciousness.

 _You’ve done enough of sleeping,_ he told himself, gritting his teeth as the room swam. _No more resting._

Talia would be back soon, if she wasn’t on her way already. By now, she would have realized the Kryptonite was doing more harm than good. The only unknown was what she’d do with that information--especially with Ra’s leaning over her shoulder.

 _Damian,_ he thought distantly, swinging his legs over the bed. The clay floor was cool against his bare feet. _Have to find Damian. Have to get him out of here._

 _Clark,_ another voice whispered, the constant mantra in the back of his mind. _Find Clark first._

“Damian,” he muttered, pushing against the bed. His legs shook as he stood, a searing pain digging in his side. “Damian…”

His knees gave out, sending him crashing towards the floor. His head hit the clay, and he fell into darkness.

* * *

 A sudden burst of adrenaline forced him awake. He swung in the chains, groaning as his shoulder burned. Blood covered his chest, a dull red that hadn’t completely dried. Damian’s wound had barely clotted--another gift of the Kryptonite around his neck.

Whatever Damian was planning had to happen soon. There was a sickening pain underneath the Kryptonite, pulsing softly. Bruce didn’t have long--Clark could feel the blood leaking out of his side like it was his own. The next time his heart stopped…

 _Don’t think like that,_ he told himself, tugging on the chains until he was fully upright. _Damian will come back. He has a plan. Even if you can’t trust him…_

He closed his eyes, making up his mind quickly. Even if Damian reneged, getting Bruce out was the priority. Everything else could wait.

* * *

 Bruce woke to hands around his arm, sharp fingers pressed against the crook of his elbow. Talia’s face blurred into focus, her lips pursed as she searched for a vein.

“Talia…”

She paused, her eyes flicking to the door. She didn’t look at him. The fingers around his elbow tightened, digging into the skin. In her other hand, there was a rubber tourniquet. Behind her was a cart, filled with empty IV bags and tubing.

“It’s for your own good.” Talia said, curt. She resumed her search, tugging the tourniquet around his arm. Bruce was too weak to stop her. He was too weak to even lift his fingers--and that thought would have been horrifying if he’d been awake enough to process it. “You’ll see.”

Bruce closed his eyes as the needle plunged into his arm, reaching out for the mind at the other side of his own. It was almost impossible to form the thought.

_Clark..._

* * *

 Damian pushed into the room, the same tray from their earlier session in his hands. Clark gritted his teeth as the Kryptonite shard came closer, feeling the effects even more acutely than before.

“It’s time.” Damian said, his face grave. He met Clark’s eyes, something so much like _Bruce_ in them for a moment. “Mother began the steps for transfusion a minute ago.”

He produced a bolt cutter from his robes, watching him carefully. Clark hung in the chains, not daring to move. The child approached him slowly, reaching for the first bracelet.

When both had been cut, Clark let his arms fall, groaning at the sensation of blood rushing back into his hands. Damian lifted the cutters up, fastening them around the collar.

With a press of his hand, the metal band snapped, sending the Kryptonite scattering across the floor.

Whatever relief he’d felt at the loss of the bracelets was minimal, unimaginably small, compared to this. His powers rushed back in like a wave, sending him staggering. He was overwhelmed instantly, drowning in the sensations he’d been cut off from for so long.

Damian caught his shoulder, his grip the only thing keeping him from slamming to his knees. The boy lowered him to the ground slowly, displaying impressive strength Clark could barely register.

Bruce’s presence burned at the front of his mind. He hadn’t even realized how distant his mate had become in the intervening hours--how strained and hazy the bond between them had gotten.

Now, it flared to life, and all he could feel was pain--

“We need to go,” he gasped, gripping Damian’s shoulder. “We need to go _now_.”

* * *

 The Kryptonian pulled away, his eyes a brilliant red. Damian felt a wave of fear as the alien stood to his full height, shoulders pushed back. The Kryptonite scattered across the floor meant nothing now; if he wanted him dead, it would happen.

“They’re keeping him in a chamber two floors above us,” Damian said, refusing to let his voice waver. He met the Kryptonian’s red gaze without flinching. “We need to be quick--”

A hand wrapped around his waist, cutting off the sentence. The world blurred around him, a rush of wind taking his breath away. Just as quickly as it’d come, the sensation disappeared.

They were standing outside of Father’s door. Damian shook his head, dazed. Next to him, the alien looked--hungry? Vengeful?

“She’s in there.” Damian said under his breath, knowing he would hear him. “You--”

The Kryptonian tilted his head, putting a palm on the door. He closed his eyes, breathing in once. With a clenched fist, he split the wood, shattering it.

Mother was frozen over Father’s bed, a syringe in her hand. Behind her, three IV bags hung from the racks, filled with a sickly green liquid.

One tube had already been attached, pumping sluggishly into the IV. His eyes went to Father immediately, adrenaline surging in his veins. The alien was already across the room, reaching out a hand to touch his mate.

“ _Leave,_ ” Mother said, pulling a dagger from her side. She stepped away from Father’s bed, her eyes flicking back to the alien. “ _Now,_ Damian!”

“No.” He reached for his own sword, holding it out between them. “I can’t let you do this, Mother.”

“Leave. Before you do something you cannot take back.” There was a brief flicker of hesitation in her eyes, swiftly concealed as she raised the dagger. “I am not above laying a hand on disobedient children.”

Damian readjusted his grip on the sword, staring her down.

“You can try, Mother.”

* * *

Dick fumbled with the taser, finally getting his finger around the trigger. He shook his head, willing the dizziness to go away. His escrima sticks were strapped to his back, a last resort.

“Ready, Alfred?”

The butler had a retractable baton in one hand, wielded with suspicious ease. His gaze was dubious at best.

“The only person you’re going to hurt with that is yourself, I’m afraid.”

“Ye of little faith,” Dick muttered, craning his head up. Over the rock they were crouched behind, he could just see the outline of the compound--almost completely concealed by the desert sands. “I just need you to help me walk. Once we get there, we’ll be fine.”

Alfred shook his head, muttering something into the sand. “If you could hear yourself right now…”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Alfie,” Dick grinned at the butler, tugging on the domino mask. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

The butler sighed. “Because these things never go wrong, do they?”

“That’s the spirit!”

* * *

 Behind him, Damian was confronting Talia, their angry words disappearing into the background. Kal stepped towards his mate, shielding him from the exchange. He brushed a hand across Bruce’s face, hissing when it burned.

 _The IV bag,_ he thought, reaching for the plastic tubing. His hands burned as he tore down the bags, ripping the needle from his mate’s skin. It made little difference; he could still see the Kryptonite swirling in Bruce’s veins. The damage had been done.

The sound of metal meeting metal briefly distracted him. Damian let out a shout, pained. Kal ignored the urge to help, hyper-focused on his mate. There were seconds, maybe minutes, before the Kryptonite completely surrounded his heart.

He was staring at Bruce, wasting precious time. The bond was ripping away, tearing apart between them with every second. Someone was tugging at his arm, shouting distantly in his ear.

Damian was at his side, holding up the discarded tubing. Blood streaked his face. Behind him, Talia was unconscious on the floor.

“--transfusion,” Damian was shouting, shaking his arm. “Are you _listening?_ He’s going to die! I need your _blood!_ ”

Kal followed his gaze to Bruce, then back to the tubing, realizing. He held out his arm, nodding at the boy.

Damian wasted little time, finding a vein and plunging the needle into his arm. Kal winced as the needle dug in, still covered in the Kryptonite solution. Blood started to flow into the bag; he squeezed his hand, watching as Damian reconnected Bruce’s IV.

Outside the chamber, the shouting had resumed. The sounds of a fight reached him, but his attention was only on the tube of blood flowing to Bruce. He willed it to go faster, watching as the Kryptonite solution diluted slowly.

He stumbled against the bed, hit with a sudden wave of dizziness. Bruce gasped in his arms, color flooding back into his cheeks. The bond surged to life between them, overlaying everything.

_Bruce…_

* * *

 Damian had his sword up, ready to confront whatever pushed through the chamber doors. He lowered the blade as Dick stumbled in, one arm over Alfred’s shoulders.

“...Grayson?”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Dick said, staring at Father and the alien, still tangled in the bloody IV tubes. “Damian, what the hell did you do?”

Alfred shushed him, pushing Grayson into a nearby chair. Blood was smeared across his hands, dripping from a baton at his belt. Damian shrunk away from his gaze, shame flooding through him.

The alien was curled protectively around Father, his eyes still a vivid red. He was watching the room’s occupants, daring them to come closer.

Alfred held up his hands, approaching the pair slowly. The alien didn’t move, watching the butler.

“Easy,” he said softly, “I just want to check his vitals. That’s all.”

The Kryptonian relented, moving backwards. Alfred peeled away the bandage at Father’s side, examining the wound. He frowned, examining it closer.

“It’s healing,” he said, astonished. “I don’t know how, but it is. He should be stable enough for transport soon.”

Dick nodded, glancing at the doorway. “Since we only have a few minutes until Ra’s decides to come down here himself…”

“Take him.”

The room turned to Damian, silent. He squared his shoulders.

“Take them home,” he addressed the Kryptonian directly. “Make sure they’re safe. I will handle this.”

“We’re not leaving without you. That’s ridiculous.” Dick said, crossing his arms. He nodded at Mother, still unconscious on the ground. “You think Talia’s gonna be super understanding?”

“This is my fault,” Damian gritted his teeth, “And I will resolving it.”

“We have a transport just outside the compound,” Dick interrupted, “Just come with us, Damian. We can talk about this at _home_ , okay?”

“Master Wayne wouldn’t let us leave you here.” Alfred crossed his arms. “If I have to carry you myself--”

“Don’t even _think_ about it--”

There was a buzzing sound. Something slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of him. The world blurred around him, turning a sickly shade of yellow.

His head hit the ground, and everything went black.  

* * *

Clark blinked as Dick lowered the taser, shocked. Alfred sighed, unnerved by the turn of events. The room went silent; in the distance, he could hear the pounding of footsteps.

Biting his lip, he pulled the IV from his arm. Bruce stirred slightly, burrowing closer in his arms. The Kryptonite was significantly--enough to stabilize him. He would need the sun lamps, though--and soon.

“We need to leave,” he said, closing his eyes until the burning in them dimmed. “You said you have a plane?”

“Just past the perimeter,” Dick said, watching him carefully. His voice didn’t betray his fear--but his heart rate did. “If you can get Bruce there, we’ll be right behind you--”

He flew through the window, grabbing the transport from the sand and hauling it back to the compound. Inside the room, Dick and Alfred were frozen, gaping at the display.

“...or we could do that. Yeah, in hindsight, that was probably easier.” Dick shook his head, stumbling to his feet. Alfred put out a hand, ready to catch him. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Clark gathered Bruce in his arms, flying him into the plane. He strapped his mate down in one of the seats, careful of the still-open wound on his side. His face twisted briefly. Clark couldn’t resist reaching out, brushing a hand through Bruce’s hair.

 _When you’re awake,_ he thought, _we’re going to have a discussion about putting yourself in harm’s way. A very_ long _discussion._

The anger was still buzzing through him, a steady burn in his veins. It would have to wait.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *holds out update* heeeeeeeeey. 
> 
> Thanks to the lovely musicalgirl4474, as always, for helping me through this mess of an outline. I hope everyone enjoys!

**_Before_ **

_Biting his lip, Clark pulled the IV from his arm. Bruce stirred slightly, burrowing closer in his arms. The Kryptonite was significantly--enough to stabilize him. He would need the sun lamps, though--and soon._

_“We need to leave,” he said, closing his eyes until the burning in them dimmed. “You said you have a plane?”_

_“Just past the perimeter,” Dick said, watching him carefully. His voice didn’t betray his fear--but his heart rate did. “If you can get Bruce there, we’ll be right behind you--”_

_He flew through the window, grabbing the transport from the sand and hauling it back to the compound. Inside the room, Dick and Alfred were frozen, gaping at the display._

_Clark strapped his mate down in one of the seats, careful of the still-open wound on his side. His face twisted briefly. He couldn’t resist reaching out, brushing a hand through Bruce’s hair._

When you’re awake, _he thought,_ we’re going to have a discussion about putting yourself in harm’s way. A very long discussion.

_The anger was still buzzing through him, a steady burn in his veins. It would have to wait._

* * *

**_Now_ **

Bruce woke with a start, a hand flying to his chest. For a second, he could feel nothing but _heat--_ a churning, sickly feeling of sweat and pain, blooming just underneath his skin. He squinted, struggling to breathe as the room came into focus.

“You’re okay. Slow breaths.”

A cool hand pressed against the small of his back, rubbing in small circles. The heat waned slightly, shying away from the fingertips.

“Bruce. Can you--can you open your eyes?”

The hand slid across his back, squeezing his arm once. Bruce took a breath as instructed, forcing his eyes open as the heat threatened to return.

Clark was standing in front of him, shirtless. His jaw was tight, clenched in way that should have been painful. The Cave medbay was barely recognizable behind him, crammed full with sun lamps set to _high._

“Turn those off,” Bruce muttered, rubbing a hand across his eyes as they began to water. Under flushed skin, he could almost feel his cells turning over, responding rapidly to the UV rays. “I can’t…”

Clark was at the bedside in a flash, catching his shoulder before he could topple off the bed. Bruce blinked as the wave of dizziness passed, clinging to the Kryptonian in more ways than one as he struggled to right himself.

_After effects of...Kryptonite poisoning…_

“Damian,” Bruce mumbled, grateful when he heard the sun lamps shut down behind them. To his eyes, Clark hadn’t even moved. “You got him out.”

“He’s alive.”

The words came out through clenched teeth. Bruce felt a wave of anger reverberate down the bond, potent enough it could’ve been his own. It was a struggle to force the emotion back to the side of his mind he knew was Clark’s. He let out a gasp at the effort, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“ _Bruce--_ ”

“I--I need to see him,” Bruce grabbed for the edge of the cot, levering himself up. Clark moved, blocking him in against the wall before he could stand.

“Like hell you’re going anywhere near him,” he said, eyes flashing red. For a moment, Bruce could feel Clark’s fists clenching like they were his own. “He tried to _kill_ you--”

“He’s my _son,_ ” Bruce growled, grabbing for the bed rail. He paused as another wave of dizziness hit him, momentarily distracted from his mission to run up the Cave stairs. “I need to--”

“You need to _sit down,”_  Clark hissed, grabbing his wrist. He forced Bruce back against the pillows, leaning down over him. “You were _seconds_ away from dying when I found you. The transfusion…”

His words disappeared in a rush of blood in Bruce’s ears. His eyes were focused on the hand still tight around his wrist, holding him against the bed. His skin was bright red between Clark’s fingers; it would bruise for sure.

 _Like him,_ Bruce thought, almost in slow motion, _like_ _Kal-El._

For a split second, he was transported back to that first fight on the Watchtower. _He’d_ taken his wrist in hands just as careful, only to snap it like cordwood--

Clark flinched, dropping his hold as Bruce’s thoughts reached him through the bond.

_No no no no no no no no no--_

The other end of the connection shut off abruptly, leaving Bruce alone. He could still feel the bond--hazy, still healing--if he reached for it, but could discern nothing more than Clark’s proximity. The loss was jarring; he hadn’t realized how much even a few minutes together had strengthened their connection.

For a moment, the two of them listened to Bruce’s heart rate gradually slow, neither daring to speak.

“I apologize,” Clark said stiffly, stepping away from the bed slowly. His expression was painfully blank. He folded his hands behind his back, slowly, so Bruce could see them. “I was...concerned. I overstepped. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t,” Bruce said, rubbing his wrist. Clark raised an eyebrow, playing at aloof. He looked miserable.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t talk like _him_ ,” Bruce growled, biting down on the panic that was rising in his chest. Clark looked away, jaw clenching. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not around me.”

A fraction of an emotion slipped across the bond. Bruce tasted blood in the half-second of _not him not him not him i’m not i’m not i’mnotnotnotnot_ before Clark shut the connection again, eyes flaring red.

Bruce watched as his mate took a shuddering breath, steadying himself. When he met Bruce’s gaze again, there was something more human than alien in his eyes.

“Status report,” Bruce said, both of them pretending the words were steadier than they were. That they weren’t breathing hard, fumbling at the blunted end of the bond neither of them could bear right now. “...please.”

“You were injured,” Clark said, waving a hand at the sunlamps in defeat. His shoulders slumped. “Damian initiated a transfusion between us. The Kryptonite solution had almost shut down your major organ functions. The blood saved you, healed most of the damage. We traveled back to the Manor. You’ve been under the sun lamps for two days.”

Bruce processed this with a nod. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, taking another breath. “The children?”

“Everyone is safe upstairs,” Clark said. The anger--the reserves of sheer arrogance and power--seemed to drain visibly from him. “Dick and Alfred joined us while you were unconscious. Damian wouldn’t leave the compound, so Dick tased him. We left Talia and Ra’s there.”

“They’ll come for him,” Bruce said, thinking through the contingencies, “They’ll want answers. We need to--”

“Can you think about _yourself_ for a second?” Clark growled, interrupting.

At Bruce’s look, he exhaled through his nose, clearly frustrated. The Kryptonian took a second to begin again, restraining himself.

“You were almost dead. When Damian led me to you, I thought I’d be taking home a cor…”

Bruce looked away as the other man’s voice broke. Even without the bond, he could feel his mate’s grief like it was his own.

“Anyway.” Clark said, shrugging. His head was bowed, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “As far as Alfred and I can tell, you’re recovering. You need to spend time with your family. Reassure them, especially Dick. They’re _worried_ about you.”

Bruce carefully avoided the unspoken addition to the end of that sentence. “And Damian?”

“He wants to see you,” Clark straightened to his full height, a shadow of his earlier anger passing over his face. He crossed his arms. “I can’t keep him from you, as much as I want to.”

“Of course you can’t.”

“But there’s one thing you have to remember.” Clark continued, bringing steady red eyes up to meet his own, uncharacteristically sharp. “The last time I saw him, he was driving a shard of Kryptonite into your side. As your colleague, as your friend. As your _mate-_ -”

Bruce flinched, a thrill going down his spine at the possessiveness in the other man’s voice.

“--I can’t let it happen again.”

Silence filled the room. Bruce pursed his lips, considering his words.

“Your eyes,” he said, in lieu of a response. Clark let out a startled laugh, blinking away the burning red as he turned for the door.

“I’ll let Alfred know you’re awake,” the Kryptonian said, pausing in the doorway. He glanced at Bruce, hand resting on the doorknob. “As for the eyes...you should check out your own sometime.”

The door shut gently, belying the tension in the room. Bruce frowned, reaching for the bedside table. With a quick fumble, his cellphone was in his hands, tilted towards his face.

Twin pinpricks of red reflected off the screen, burning bright. He blinked, willing them away. When he opened his eyes again, the lights had dimmed, disappearing into the blue of his irises.

_That’s...new._

Before he had a chance to think any further on the subject, the medbay door flew open. Dick practically sprinted through the doorway, making a beeline for the bed.

_“Bruce!”_

He set aside his worry, hiding his wrist beneath the comforter.

“Hey, chum.”

* * *

Alfred set the last dish on the drying rack, reaching for the faucet. He shut off the hot water with a sigh, one hand braced against the basin. Somehow, without hearing a sound, he knew someone was behind him.

“He’s awake.”

Alfred grabbed a dish towel from the stove, sopping up the excess water.

“I gathered,” the butler said, nodding at the stairs, “Master Dick hasn’t made that much noise in...quite a long time.”

When he turned around, dish in hand, Kent was pulling a shirt over his head. Alfred glanced at the far wall, averting his eyes in politeness.

“Skin to skin helped until he woke up,” the younger man said, almost clinically. There was a dazed look in his eyes. “He didn’t like the sun lamps. I have a feeling that’s the remainder of his human DNA, but I can’t say for sure. The transfusion may have added more to it. I have no idea.”

Alfred set the dish on the table, raising an eyebrow. “Have you informed him of your suspicions?”

“Of course not,” Kent said, brow furrowing. “When I was in his--he wasn’t--” he cut off, clearly frustrated, yet unable to put the feeling to words. It was the first sign of emotion Alfred had observed so far. “He has enough to worry about right now. Staying _healthy and_   _alive_ are the top two concerns.”

“And your presence is required for both.” Alfred said, crossing his arms. Kent froze, pinned by his gaze.

“...if I left, yes, it would have a negative effect on the recuperation period,” he said, finally, a hint of anger curling around his words. “However, being here--”

“What Master Wayne _wants,_ and what Master Wayne _needs,_ I’m afraid,” Alfred said, “are often two very different things. If he told you to leave, I can only beg you do the opposite. For his well being.”

The two faced off over the kitchen island, silent. Kent’s jaw clenched. Alfred held his ground, keeping his expression neutral.

“I have to speak with Lois.” he said, breaking the silence. Alfred felt his lips twitch.

“Of course.”

It wasn’t an agreement. It wasn’t even close to one, and they both knew it.

With a jerky nod, the Kryptonian left the kitchen, heading towards the back patio. He pushed through the french doors as if in a dream, taking off from the veranda in a single motion.

Alfred stepped into the back hall, shutting the doors before they could blow in the wind. He pursed his lips, watching the clouds darken across the lake.

“Pennyworth?”

He turned, hands folded. Damian stood in the hallway, half-cast in the shadow of the door. He was glaring at the space Kent had just occupied.

“Yes?”

“I suppose Father would want some food.” the boy said, flicking a hand at the stairs to the Cave. “Since he is awake.”

“I suppose he would.” Alfred studied Damian briefly, noting the way his shoulders drooped as his gaze passed over him. Shame? Guilt? It could be either, or both. He nodded at the kitchen. “Would you like to help?”

“If I must.”

Alfred suppressed a snort, not missing the deflection. “If you’d like to eat dinner, Master Damian, I suppose you’d be obliged.”

* * *

 “I know you said you needed time. Just--hear me out, okay?”

Clark braced himself against the doorjamb, praying Lois wouldn’t slam the door on him. She was clearly considering it; he quickly catalogued the puffiness in her eyes--the messy hair, the hint of wine on her breath--and felt his heart ache.

How had they fallen this far apart? Weeks, even days ago, he would’ve been utterly relieved to fall into her arms. It was all he’d think about during the day; how she’d smell, in the crook of her neck, how she’d smile as they shared takeout on the couch, later that night.

She’d been everything he’d craved in a mate. Or, so he’d believed. So he’d been _led_ to believe, for so long.

“Clark,” Lois said. Her lips twisted as she took him in, head to toe, appraising. Somehow, it wasn’t as intimate as it’d been before. “I--”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Clark cut in, holding up a hand. “I just need you to listen. Just for a few minutes.”

Lois narrowed her eyes. Behind her, the Nightly News blared out the latest headline as he waited. It was painfully awkward for the first time in...forever.

“Alright,” she said, holding open the door. “Five minutes.”

He followed her into the apartment, watching her kick off her heels. There was a glass of wine on the coffee table, half-full.

_Like she’d had a choice to let him in. Like the flimsy security chain he’d installed couldn’t be snapped with a twist of his fingers. Like--_

Clark shook his head, frowning at the turn his mind had taken. He sat opposite the loveseat, watching Lois cross her legs in a way that was so familiar, it was painful.

“I love you,” he began, watching as the words hit Lois. She covered her mouth with a hand, looking away. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you.”

Lois picked up the wineglass, holding it like a shield between them. She swirled it, looking away as her eyes began to water.

“...how can you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” Clark said, simply, leaning forward. “Because I love you. Because I gave you a ring that showed the world how much you mean to me. Because even without it, I’d feel the exact same way.”

“You think I can just overlook what you did,” Lois bit out, still fierce, even with tears pouring down her cheeks. “You might be able to. But _me_ ? Are you _serious_?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Clark said, teeth clenching. “Lois, I would never ask you to forgive me. What I did was--”

 _don’t you touch me again,_ Bruce said in his mind, a half-step above a growl, _don’t you ever touch me again---_

“Unforgivable.” he finished. “But I want to make this right. I have...so much to make up for. I know that.”

Lois looked away, setting the wine glass down. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed her tears, wiping under her eyes so she didn’t smear her mascara.

“The couch,” she said, standing and brushing her skirt. “I’m going to bed.”

Clark accepted the olive branch--if it could be called that--watching as Lois grabbed the bottle of wine off the counter, slinging it into the bedroom. He bowed his head as the door shut, leaving him alone.

 _You’re making this right,_ he thought, ignoring the frayed ends of the bond brushing against his mind, _or else._

* * *

“You alright?”

Bruce removed the hand from his temple, shaking his head. To his right, Dick was suddenly perched on his mousepad, watching him in concern. For a second, his bones flashed through the thin t-shirt, stark white in the shadows of the cave.

“Fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just a little dizzy, still.”

“Alfred _kindly suggested_ that you take another hour in front of the lamps,” Dick said, grinning. “Thoughts?”

“I’d say I’ve worked enough on my tan.”

“Funny, I’m pretty sure that was exactly what he said you’d say.”

Bruce snorted, not missing the way Dick’s smile faltered as he turned away. With a sigh, he stood from the computer terminal, heading towards the yoga mats.

“Stretch with me?” he asked, knowing it was the only intensive activity Dick--de facto chaperone--would allow.

“Sure.”

Dick dropped into half lotus easily, leaning forward into the pose. Bruce mimicked him, frowning as his gaze flickered again.

 _X-Ray vision,_ a small voice in the back of his mind suggested. He ignored it, breathing around the burn in his calves as they switched positions.

“Damian?” he asked Dick.

“Upstairs helping with dinner. I asked him if he wanted to see you, but…”

“But?”

The younger man looked away, flipping up into downwards dog. Bruce copied him, breathing out as his wrist pulsed painfully at the change. Dick would catch on eventually; for now, the ring of purpling skin was hidden under his sleeve.

“I think maybe it’s a great time to take a breather, you know?” Dick said, glancing at him. “Everyone gets to cool down. Damian gets to mull over attempted patricide. And giving me a concussion. The rest of us get to think about, uh…”

The younger man fumbled for the words. Bruce frowned, waiting as they walked up into a sun salutation. When he looked back down, Dick had obviously remembered what he’d been about to say, sending an achingly bright grin his way.

“Forgiveness! Yep, that’s it. _Forgiving_ each other.”

“...right.” Bruce said, dipping forward into another calf stretch. “How, uh, is your head?”

“Fine,” Dick said, shrugging. “I mean, I don’t think I’m brain damaged.”

“That’s...not reassuring.”

“You know what wasn’t reassuring? Finding you half-dead hooked up to green meteorite poison.” Dick said quickly, his voice rising. “Okay?”

Bruce’s eyes widened at the sudden change in tone. He slipped out of warrior, grabbing Dick’s shoulder as he tried to turn away. “Dick--”

“It’s alright--”

“ _Richard_.”

Dick froze, letting his hands drop. Bruce held his gaze, waiting. They were both breathing heavily; not because of the yoga.

“You think this is easy for me?” Dick asked, in a voice that was painfully small. “My own brother tried to kill you--tried to kill _me,_ maybe. Worst of all, I had to watch Clark revive you--knowing, quite _fucking_ well--that if you died, he would’ve killed Damian.”

Bruce felt his heart clench painfully in his chest, unable to take a breath. Dick threw up his hands, not noticing.

“And _now_ things are just hunky-dory. _No._ They’re _not._ ” Dick waved at the sun lamps, still visible through the med bay door. “I mean, what part of this is _okay_? Huh?”

Bruce reached forward as his voice broke, grabbing for Dick’s shoulder.

“I j-just can’t--”

Before the younger man could protest, he pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around his son.

“Breathe,” he whispered into Dick’s ear, as the younger man’s chest heaved with silent sobs, choking on nothing. He’d done the same thing, decades ago, when he’d been so much smaller--but the motion was the same. “Just breathe, Dick.”

Finally, finally, there was wetness against his neck. He held Dick through the tears, rocking them slowly on the mat. After a while, he rubbed a soothing hand down the his back, letting them drift apart.

“This is, uh,” Dick pulled away, wiping his eyes, “Post concussive syndrome, or something. I read online that y-you, uh, get more emotional in the first few days after the accident...”

Bruce was considering another jab, half-grinning at Dick’s antics, when another wave of dizziness hit him. This time, he didn’t have time to prepare as his vision flickered in and out. Over the span of a few seconds, it shifted from color to X-Ray and back again, dazing him.  

“ _Bruce!”_

He felt his knees hit the floor, struggling to form a reassurance. Fumbling for Dick’s hand, he watched as their bones overlaid each other, feeling nausea pool in his stomach.

_“Bruce!”_

“F-fine,” he stuttered out, blinking furiously. He pressed a hand to his eyes, recoiling as it came away burning. “Get away from me.”

“Bruce--”

“ _Richard--_ ”

The last thing he heard was rushed footsteps, somewhere above his head, before the bursts of light beneath his eyelids sent him hurtling toward the floor.  

* * *

“ _Come to...save him?"_

_Clark startled as the double shifted on the floor, moving to stand in front of Bruce. He felt his eyes burn red, grabbing the false Superman and hauling him up by the front of his suit._

_"I should kill you." He growled, feeling rage burn through him, tempered only by the knowledge that Bruce was safe. Bruce was safe._

_The Justice League were still fighting when he'd left, trailing Superman across the sky, but they'd have a handle on things soon. It was over._

_"Go ahead…" the double gasped, blood dribbling down his chin. He smirked a little around the ruin of his mouth. "Do it…."_

_Clark almost did-he felt the fire in his eyes, the strength in his bones, and he was just about to reach out when the double choked out a laugh._

_"...but I'll take him with me," it said, grinning up at him. "Do you understand?"_

 

“You’re still here.”

Clark lifted his head from the sofa cushion, shaking off the last of the dream. Lois was standing in the kitchen, morning light filtering around her. In the shade of the window, her hair glowed a deep red where it caught the light.

He sat up, frowning at the bitter taste in his mouth. His shoes were still on; he removed them from her sofa sheepishly. “I am.”

“I didn’t know if you’d changed your mind.” Lois said. She looked at him closely, her eyes still puffy. “You look like shit.”

Clark, wisely, said nothing about her appearance. “Didn’t sleep well,” he said, glancing back at the sofa. “Might have had a nightmare. I don’t remember.”

“Do you still think about it?”

He tilted his head. “About what?”

“That other universe. The other you.”

Clark felt his heart stutter in his chest, taking a strained breath. So she’d decided to dive in. It wasn’t out of character, but the memories still drew him up short.

_"Does it hurt?" the double asked, his face healing before Clark's eyes as the effects of the Kryptonite lessened. "Knowing that I took something that you will...never...be able to have?"_

“Lois…”

“You never told me much,” she admitted, “I know there was an--an evil version of you. I know it freaked you out, because you won’t talk about it. Even now.”

Clark looked away. His hands were trembling against his legs.

After a moment, Lois covered them with her own, sitting next to him. Blue eyes found his, and he felt himself falling all over again.

“Tell me,” she said.

And he did.

* * *

Diana pushed through the Manor doors, J’onn hot on her heels. Dick gestured wordlessly to the Cave stairs, stumbling after them. Alfred, the butler, watched on from the kitchen doorway, concern etched into his face.

“He’s unconscious still?” she asked Nightwing, taking the steps down two at a time. “No movement?”

“He hit the floor, and he was out,” Dick said, glancing between her and J’onn. As they entered the Cave floor, he hurried forward to unlock the medbay. “Clark wasn’t answering his comm--”

“Kal-El has been...difficult to contact, as of late,” J’onn interjected, sharing a look with Diana. “I’m sure it is not...personal.”

“Yeah, right,” Dick said, pushing open the medbay door. “Maybe this can convince him to turn that earpiece back on, huh?”

His sarcasm fell short as Diana stepped into the sick room, scanning its contents. She felt her breath catch as she spotted Bruce on the single bed, a series of machines hooked up to his arms.

“He’s stable?” she asked Nightwing, her boots echoing against the tile. The younger man looked uncertain.

“He still experiences those little--I guess you’d call them seizures--every now and then,” Dick said, shrugging. “His eyes heat up, he seizes up, and then he falls unconscious again.”

“Kal radioed us when he came back from the desert,” J’onn said, in the intervening silence. “He notified us that Bruce required sunlamps, but we received no further updates.”

“He was under the lamps for two days,” Dick said, gesturing at the bed. His movements were more aggravated now, hinting at the frustration he was undoubtedly feeling. “Clark was with him the whole time. He said he was getting _better._ Then he--he _left,_ and I don’t know what the hell happened.”

Diana stroked a hand across Bruce’s brow, frowning. She let her hand hover, feeling the intense heat radiating from his skin. “J’onn?”

The alien joined her at the bedside, placing his hand over hers. He closed his eyes, concentrating. Diana stayed quiet, not daring to interrupt.

“He is...disconnected,” J’onn said, opening his eyes after a few minutes. “Kal-El shut him off. Their bond is...blocked, somehow.”

Diana walked over to one of the cabinets, removing a cloth from its sterile pouch. She ran it under cool water from the tap, bringing it back to the bed. As J’onn continued to puzzle over the vigilante, she folded the rag across his forehead, pressing the cool cloth into his skin.

 _If I didn’t know better,_ she thought to herself, _I would call this heartbreak._

“--nothing you can do?” Nightwing was saying, a hint of desperation in his voice. “The seizures aren’t exactly tapering off. I don’t know how long we can manage without him. Damian...”

J’onn waited as the younger man trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. Diana felt her heart swell in sympathy, feeling the same brokenness in her own mind. Dick regained his composure quickly, swallowing thickly.

“What is it we need to do?” he asked, calm.

“Convince Kal-El to return,” J’onn said, tilting his head. “Perhaps, since the bond is blocked, he hasn’t yet realized Bruce’s condition.”

“Bullshit,” Dick said, crossing his arms. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. This is just some--some _macho bullshit_ he has with Damian.”

Diana blinked. “What did Damian do?”

“He stabbed Bruce with some Kryptoni--hey, you know what?” Dick cut himself off, “That’s not relevant right now. The point is, despite the fact that Clark feels threatened by an _eleven year-old,_ he needs to get his shit together. Or--”

“Or this gets worse.” Diana finished, pursing her lips. She glanced down at Bruce, exhaling. “Or we force him.”

Dick flinched, looking away. J’onn was staring steadily at the medbay wall, strangely focused on a spot near the door.

“Kal-El will return,” the alien said, firmly, “He has to. No one else has access to Kryptonian healing.”

Diana grasped her belt instinctively, tightening her grip.

“Hera willing,” she said.

* * *

 “You saved him.”

_"It's alright," Clark whispered, stroking his brow, feeling his own skin react to the light as he leaned over the other man. He reached down to unfasten Bruce's pants, exposing his skin to even more light. "You'll--"_

_A hand wrapped around his wrist before he could untie them. Clark startled as he tried to move backwards, unable to loosen the iron grip. Bruce's eyes were open, his eyes bluer than he'd ever seen them._

_"No," the billionaire said, dazed, not focusing on Clark. "Not you. I want Clark."_

_He breathed in, horrified at what that revealed, what he could assume-but he didn't want to. Didn't want to think about what Kal-El had done-what he'd taken, apparently by force. "Bruce, it's me."_

_"Don't touch me," Bruce muttered, throwing Clark's wrist away from his waist. He stumbled a little with the force of it, still weak from the Kryptonite. The other man made a pained noise as his eyes closed, curling into himself. "I want...Clark…"_

_He reached for the other man, the pain in his chest so strong, he could barely breathe. "Bruce--"_

_"Leave me alone!"_

Clark shook his head, turning away from Lois. “I did something...unforgivable.”

“But it saved his life.”

_"He killed his bondmate," Clark muttered, a bitter taste in his mouth. "To save me."_

_"You're not listening," Jor-El reminded him, stoking his anger with a mere change in tone. "His bond. It's torn. Not gone completely."_

_Doubt settled in his chest, a dull ache. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "So?"_

“He didn’t consent,” Clark rebutted, getting a glare in return. “What?”

“You said yourself, he didn’t have a choice. He knew it was you. After that…” Lois swallowed. “You were dying too. It would’ve killed both of you.”

_"You would let him die?" Jor-El asked, his voice rising to a shout. "Let yourself die, because of your doubts?"_

_"I couldn't," Clark breathed, feeling dizzy as Jor-El's anger grew. He rested a hand on Bruce's platform, trying to center himself. "He'd hate me."_

_Jor-El's gaze didn't soften. He crossed his arms, looking down at his son. "He'd be_ alive _."_

“It took me away from you,” he said, feeling hollow. A hand rubbed his shoulder, but it didn’t give the same reassurance it once had. “Lo?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we--can I--” he fumbled for the words, unable to explain the sudden _need_ he was feeling--the desire to push his face into her neck, to breathe her in, to be _inside_ her. It was cloying, taking over his senses. He put a hand on her collarbone, tracing lightly. “Can we…”

Lois let herself lie back against the couch, following his lead with a frown. “Are you...okay?”

“Fine,” Clark gasped. He pressed a kiss under her ear, sucking on the skin as she shivered beneath him. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Lois shifted, letting him closer. He grabbed her thighs, shifting them so they were around his waist. With a brush of his hand between her legs, she was squirming. “ _God,_ Clark--”

Everything after her agreement became a blur. Clark buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent as his hands worked her panties off. There was a sickly edge to his arousal, pushing him on and on, until he was hard and grinding against her hip, pumping a finger in and out of her.

Lois was gasping with every stroke, curling around his finger, dragging it deeper into wet heat--

_\--Bruce, trembling underneath him, pressed up against the stall, shuddering with the effort to stay quiet. So fucking beautiful, taking every inch of him, rocking his hips back so good, the two of them moving in perfect tandem--_

He grabbed Lois by the hips, angling her up. With a messy kiss, he pushed into her, edging inch by inch until he could feel her tightening around him, fluttering in time with his strokes. He slid a finger over her clit, rubbing it in maddening circles--

_\--and then Bruce was coming, head thrown back, clenched down on him--_

Lois was gasping, incoherent words of encouragement tumbling out of her as he sped up, rougher, faster, trying to banish Bruce’s voice from his head. He could feel her losing it around him, knew she was close, and yet---

_"Move," Bruce growled in his ear, the first coherent thing he'd said in a long time. Kal responded with a sharp thrust, starting up a bruising pace that shook the bed. "Jesus f-fuck--"_

_It wasn't long before the other man lost the ability of speech again, biting off sweet little gasps with each thrust, refusing to let him win. Kal slowed his pace, pressing his face to Bruce's neck._

_"Kal," Bruce whispered, so close to begging. He was utterly beautiful in that moment, eyes clenched shut, handsome face turned upwards, panting, "Kal, please--"_

“F-fuck--” Lois was saying in his ear, “c’mon, baby, c’mon--”

Clark felt her shudder through her climax underneath him. He bit into her shoulder, speeding up until he was almost there, so deliciously close he could almost taste it--

\--Mine _, he thought, and then he was coming too, so hard it left him breathless. He pushed his face into Bruce's shoulder as all coherent thought left him--_

he came with a gasp against Lois’ neck, knowing before he was even fully conscious that he’d made a grave mistake. A wave of nausea rolled through him, cutting off the post-climax buzz. He pushed off his fiancee, stumbling for the bathroom.

“Clark?” Lois asked, sounding dazed behind him. “You alright?”

He hissed as another wave of pain wracked through him, doubling over in front of the toilet as his stomach cramped. His hands were trembling again, going numb at the tips.

_Bruce gasped in his arms, shuddering through the aftershocks, so fucking beautiful…_

_Mine._

“Fuck,” Clark said to the mirror, meeting bloodshot eyes in his reflection, “ _Fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment, and let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters soon! Leave me a comment and let me know what you thought! Now taking prompts on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/frownyalfred)


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